UC-NRLF 


B    E    fiD3    EMM 


IttKCltY 

LIBRARY 

UNIVERSITY  OF 
CALIFORNIA 


SEYMOUR  HARRANGUING  THE  CREW  OF  THE  ALBATROSS  FROM  THE  QUARTER  DECK, 


"  \<>ic  i/if'ii,  »•/>/'  „„,,  c],rrr  fo 
•use.  out  the  guns,  below." 


THE 


CABIN    BOY'S    STOUT: 


f mt-$toticai  JUramnt, 


FOUNDED   ON   FACT. 


THE   OLD   DOOTOE,"   ETC.,   ETC. 


YORK: 
GARRETT    &    CO.,   PUBLISHERS, 

IS    ANN   STREET. 


IOAN  STACK 


ENTERED  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1854,  by  A.  J.  Williamson,  for 

THE    AUTHOR, 
In  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court,  for  the  Southern  District  of  New  York, 


AUTHOR'S  PREFACE. 


A  PREFACE  is  generally  considered  to  be  a  necessary  appen 
dage  to  a  book.  It  is  true  that  some  readers  pass  it  over  with 
a  psha  I  indicative  of  contempt ;  nevertheless  there  are  others 
who  would  consider  a  book  incomplete  without  it. 

In  the  following  story  the  author  has  endeavored,  under 
the  garb  of  fiction  to  embody  various  romantic  facts,  which 
have  come  under  his  notice  in  the  course  of  his  early  wander 
ings.  He  does  not  pretend  to  insult  his  readers  by  asserting 
that  he  has  strictly  adhered  to  literal  facts.  The  veriest  tyro  in 
romance  reading  would  know  that  this  were  impossible,  even  if  it 
were  desirable.  No  person,  even  in  recounting  historical  truths, 
can  adhere  to  the  letter  of  actual  fact.  Such  and  such  things 
he  may  know  to  have  occurred  at  certain  periods.  It  rests 
with  him  to  show  in  what  way  they  were  brought  about ;  to 
relate  a  conversation  here,  to  speak  of  a  fact  which  happened 
there,  and,  so  to  speak,  to  dovetail  the  fiction  and  the  fact  to 
gether  in  such  a  manner  that  the  one  may  reasonably  bring 
about,  or  explain  the  cause  of  the  other,  and  according  to  the 
skill  with  which  he  has  effected  this  depends  the  excellence  of 
his  work.  Whether  or  not,  in  the  present  instance,  the  author 

850 


IV  PREFACE. 

has  succeeded,  he  leaves  to  the  judgment  of  his  readers.  With 
regard  to  the  plot  of  the  story,  the  following  explanations  as 
to  the  origin  of  some  of  the  characters  may  be  acceptable. 

Some  years  since,  it  was  the  fortune  of  the  author  to  fall  in 
with  a  sea  captain  whose  characteristics  he  has  endeavored  to 
portray  in  his  delineation  of  Seymour.  This  erratic  individual 
commanded  a  ship  of  his  own,  and  during  his  early  peregrina 
tions  he  had  fallen  in  with,  purchased,  educated,  and  eventual-  . 
ly  married  a  Greek  girl,  almost  literally  under  the  circumstan 
ces  detailed  in  the  narrative.  Guided  by  eccentricity  in  all  his 
actions,  he  resolved,  as  much  as  possible,  to  isolate  this  lady 
from  society,  and  he  actually  kept  her  for  many  years  almost 
secluded  from  the  world.  The  author  met  her  on  board  her 
husband's  ship,  and  was  much  delighted  with  her  extraordinary 
personal  beauty  and  the  innocence  and  amiability  of  her  dis 
position,  as  was  every  one  who  saw  her.  She,  some  few  years 
after  her  marriage,  came  to  an  untimely  end,  and  her  husband, 
who  really  loved  her  to  distraction,  did  not  long  survive  her. 

With  regard  to  those  portions  of  the  story  which  illustrate 
the  method  of  slave  dealing  on  the  African  coast,  the  author 
has  merely  presented  disconnected  facts  in  a  connected  manner. 
King  Kettle  and  the  Loango  Chiefs,  are  living  illustrations  of 
the  native  slave  dealers  on  the  coast,  and  their  portraiture  is 
drawn  from  life — "  nothing  extenuate." 

As  to  the  character  of  Mr.  Mordant  the  author  has  endea 
vored  to  portray  the  vraisemblance  of  one  of  those  men,  by  no 
means  scarce  in  our  community,  who,  while  professing  to  be 


PREFACE.  V 

actuated  by  philanthropy  in  their  hatred  of  the  system  of 
southern  slavery  and  their  open  admiration  of  the  principles  of 
abolitionism,  are  really  and  truly  interested  in  procuring  slaves 
for  the  Cuban  market,  and  it  is  a  well  known  fact,  that  vessels 
have  cleared  from  this  and  other  ports,  with  false  .papers, 
whose  destiny  was  to  the  coast,  for  the  purpose  of  procuring 
negroes. 

The  author  has  not  ventured  to  discuss  the  question  of 
slavery,  as  it  at  present  exists  in  this  country.  He  is  fully 
aware  that  all  argument  on  that  subject  is  vain,  and  that  very 
much  evil  has  arisen  from  the  ill  directed  zeal  of  Abolitionists, 
whose  efforts  only  seem  to  exasperate  the  slaveholder  and  to 
bind  faster  the  fetters  of  the  slave.  Slavery  as  it  at  present 
exists  in  the  southern  portion  of  this  Union  is  an  evil*  that  can 
never  be  eradicated  by  violent  diatribe,  and  it  is  equally  as  cer 
tain  that  the  efforts  made  to  prevent  the  kidnapping  of  negroes 
from  Africa,  have  led  and  do  lead  still  to  greater  hardships  being 
inflicted  upon  the  unhappy  wretches  thus  ruthlessly  torn  from 
their  homes,  although  the  use  of  steamers  upon  the  coast  has 
rendered,  of  late  years,  the  practice  of  slave  catching,  more 
hazardous  than  it  has  been  heretofore. 

The  Cabin  Boy,  in  this  narrative  has  told  his  own  story, 
very  little  varnished,  or  exaggerated  ;  he  has  had  little  occasion 
to  do  so  ;  for  to  use  a  hackneyed  yet  veritable  phrase,  "  Truth  is 
strange — stranger  than  fiction." 

With  this  explanation,  he  gives  the  story  to  his  readers. 

New  York,  August  1st,  1854. 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  I. 

PAOH 

Ho !  for  California— Shipping  Hands  for  the  new  El  Dorado 1$ 

CHAPTER  II. 

The  reader  is  introduced  to  a  New  York  merchant  and  his  family 

— The  mysterious  disappearance  of  Jane  Miller 19 

CHAPTER  Itt.y.itMtf  I. 

The  Albatross  sails  from  New  York,  and  the  secret  object  of  her 

voyage  becomes  known  ....... .-::'.:  . .".  i.^.1.  .  "•..?•'••.  •••'      24 

1   onhuinA  'lo 

CHAPTER  IV. 

:•••>    urnoM   I^i-'Uloor;   Ji 
Showing  how  the  slave  trade  is  maintained,  and  exposing  the 

heartlessness  engendered  by  fashion 38 

CHAPTER    y.;|   -;T;,;H— 'iOYmd    i 

The  origin  of  the  Cabin  Boy,  and  a  brief  history  of  his  family- 
leaving  more  to  be  explained  hereafter 45 

CHAPTER  VI. 

•  j*O 

The  Albatross  on  her  voyage — Harry  is  startled  by  discovering  a 
locket  containing  the  portrait  of  a  beautiful  female  in  the 
captain's  cabin,  and  discovers  the  original  in  the  Recluse  of 
Annabon • -wrtfttvyg  6* 


vill  CONTENTS. 

FAQS 

CHAPTER  VII. 

A  letter  froin  a  correspondent  of  Mr.  Mordant's  at  Sierra  Leone — 
Another  anonymous  letter  received  by  the  Widow  Miller — 
A  letter  from  Captain  Seymour,  denying  any  knowledge  of 
the  abduction  of  Jane  Miller — Some  account  of  tbe  widow's 
family — Charles  Mordant  endeavors  to  obtain  money  on  the 
security  of  his  expectations 70 

CHAPTER  VIII. 

Which  introduces  the  reader  to  Zuleika's  abode  on  the  Island  of 
Annabon — Interview  between  Captain  Seymour,  King  Kettle, 
and  the  Loango  chiefs — The  Yunga  Jagos  woman  and  her 
children — The  infants  east  to  the  lions  in  tbe  cancbrake 7S 

CHAPTER  IX. 

The  Birth  and  Parentage  of  Seymour— His  first  meeting  with 
Zuleika  in  the  Slave  Market  at  Constantinople — He  resolves 
to  Educate  and  then  to  Marry  the  Greek  Girl — Tbe  Deception 
of  Antorine  Dichet  and  the  Consequences  thereof — Seymour 
engages  in  the  Slave  Trade — Marries  Zuleika,  and  finds  her 
a  secluded  Home  oil  the  Island  of  Annabon 87 

CHAPTER   X. 

Znleika's  bower — Harry  Davisrs  secret  Is,  by  accident,  discovered 

by  the  Greek  girl 99 

CHAPTER  XI, 

Captain  Junot  relates  his  mishaps  in  consequence  of  falling  in 
with  a  cruiser— Captain  Seymour  visits  Annabon — Tbe  secret 
is  kept  from  him — Harry  is  left  wi*h  Zuleika— A  slave  drove 
— The  Ynnga  Jagos  woman  and  the  lions  in  the  canebrake — 
Seymour  nearly  catches  a  Tartar 108 


CONTENTS,  IX 

PAGK 

CHAPTER    XII. 

The  departure  of  the  young  midshipman  on  his  first  voyage  to  sea 

The  peculiarities  of  Mr.  Mordant's  views  regarding  slave 

dealing  on  the  coast  of  Africa 123 

CHAPTER  XIII. 

Frank  Martin's  dangerous  escape  from  the  slaver — His  rescue 
from  the  wreck  by  the  G ,  frigate— Miss  Herbert  is  in 
troduced  to  the  reader 128 

CHAPTER   XIV. 
The  origin  of  the  Mystery  of  the  Rings 140 

CHAPTER  XV. 

Showing  how  Mr.  Mordant  obtained  possession  of  the  Widow's  Pro 
perty I46 

CHAPTER  XVI. 

A  Shark  Story — The  Mystery  of  the  Recluse  of  the  Island  of 

Annabon 160 

CHAPTER   XVII. 

A  Surprise  and  somewhat  of  a  Mystery  arising  out  of  the  Visit 
to  the  White  Lady  of  Annabon,  and  still  more  Mystery 
arising  out  of  the  Interview 172 

CHAPTER  XVIII. 

Junot's  diabolical  Vengeance— A  Pampero  disables  the  Slaver, 
which  is  captured  by  a  Cruiser,  and  Junot  and  his  crew  are 
carried  to  Sierra  Leone  to  take  their  Trial 189 

CHAPTER  XIX. 

Sevmour  revisits  Annabon,  and  finds  an  unwelcome  visitor 205 

y  1* 


X  CONTENTS. 

PAflB 

CHAPTER   XX. 

The  Sinking  of  the  Portuguese  Schooner— Zuleika  Departs  from 
the  Island  of  Annabon — The  Destruction  of  the  Cottage  by 
Fire 209 

CHAPTER   XXI. 
Mr.  Mordant  displays  his  Charity  in  the  midst  of  his  Misfortunes 

— He  meets  with  a  severe  Domestic  Affliction 225 

CHAPTER   XXII. 
Which  treats  of  Strange  Matters,  involving  not  a  little  Mystery..     234 

CHAPTER  XXIII. 

Wherein  the  Scenes  depicted  are  laid  in  another  quarter  of  the 

Globe — The  Reader  is  introduced  to  Zuleika's  new  home ....     242 

CHAPTER   XXIV. 

The  Meeting  with  Marca— The  Ancient  Sibyl  of  the  Archipel 
ago,  and  her  Daughter  Zoe 247 

CHAPTER  XXV. 

The  Return  of  Charlotte  Herbert,  and  her  Introduction  into  Mr. 

Wilson's  Family — What  arises  therefrom 260 

CHAPTER  XXVI. 

An  Essay  on  Familiarity  with  Death — Captain  James  is  Rewarded 

for  his  Kindness  to  the  Yunga  Jagos  Negress 268 

CHAPTER  XXVII. 

Some  further  Mystery,  leading  to   an   Unexpected  Denoument, 

arising  out  of  the  Rings 274 

CHAPTER   XXVIII. 
The  Birth  of  Zuleika's  Infant — Some  Account  of  the  Parentage 

of  Zuleika . .  282 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER   XXIX. 

la  which  King  Kettle  shows  that  he  possesses  as  great  Skill  in 
Diplomacy  as  more  Civilized  Potentates  —  Mr.  Mordant  hears 
more  Unwelcome  News,  and  receives  a  visit  from  the  Yankee 
Mate,  Tolcroft  .........................................  289 

CHAPTER  XXX. 

Frank  Martin  Returns  Home,  and  has  an  Interview  with  Seymour, 

during  which  some  Strange  Revelations  are  made  ..........     309 

CHAPTER   XXXI. 

Marca  and  Zoe  relate  the  Events  which  occurred  during  their 
long  Separation  from  each  other  —  Seymour's  Return  to  Zu- 
leika'slsle  ...............................  ............  820 

CHAPTER  XXXH. 

Which  treats  of  Domestic  Matters  —  Sarah  Mordant  finds  she  has 
made  a  bad  bargain  —  Mr.  Harvey  displays  his  cunning,  with 
advantage  to  himself  ....................................  328 

CHAPTER   XXXIII. 
Which  describes  various  Unexpected  Interviews  ...............     340 

CHAPTER   XXXIV. 

Seymour's  first  sight  of  his  Child  —  Jane  Miller  discovers  herself  to 

Seymour  .............................................     351 

CHAPTER  XXXV. 

Marie  makes  her  Escape  from    her  Guardian,  and  is  Rescued 

by  Captain  de  Sylva.  ...................................     363 

CHAPTER  XXXVI. 

The  reader  is  introduced  to  Abdallah,  the  Greek  Pirate  Chief— 

the  interview  between  Abdallah  and  Zoe  .  .  ........    173 


HI  CONTENTS. 

PAOB 

CHAPTER   XXXVII. 

The  Gale  in  the  JSgean  Sea — The  meeting  of  De  Sylva  and  Sey 
mour — Zuleika  begs  her  Husband  to  become  a  Christian — 
Death  of  Zuleika  and  her  Child 378 

CHAPTER  XXXVIII. 

The  last  of  Zuleika — Her  Burial  on  the  Island,  and  the  Departure 

of  Seymour  and  Jane  Miller  for  Odessa,  on  board  the  Petrel . .     413 

CHAPTER  XXXIX. 

Which  treats  of  various  Characters — and  Commences  to  wind  up 

the  Story 422 

CHAPTER   XL. 
The  Conclusion...  433 


THE  CABIN  BOY'S  STORY 

BY  THE  AUTHOR  OF  THE  "PIRATE  DOCTOR,"  ETC. 


CHAPTER  I. 

Ho  !  for  California — Shipping  Hands  for  the  new  El  Dorado. 

THE  astounding  discovery  of  the  auriferous  treasure  buried 
beneath  the  soil  of  the  long-considered  barren  desert  of  Cali 
fornia,  created  an  unwonted  stir  amongst  the  shipping  in  the 
port  of  New  York,  as  well  as  in  every  other  port  in  the  United 
States  ;  for  every  merchant,  who  could  by  any  means  manage 
to  do  so,  was  eager  to  possess  himself  of  a  share  of  the  almost 
fabulous  wealth  then  for  the  first  time  lai$  bare  to  the  cupidity 
of  mankind  ;  consequently  all  the  vessels  that  could  be  ob 
tained,  were  readily  freighted  for  the  shores  of  the  "land  of 
golden  promise."  Freights  increased  in  value — there  was  a 
rise  in  seamen's  wages — a  scarcity  of  seamen  for  every  other 
destination,  and  a  proportionable  increase  in  everything  con 
nected  with  the  shipping  interest. 

One  fine  summer's  evening,  shortly  after  the  news  had  burst 
upon  the  world,  and  men  had  satisfied  themselves  that  they 
were  not  dreaming  or  listening  to  a-n  exaggerated  story,  there 
was  an  unusual  bustle  in  a  well  known  shipping  office  for  sea 
men,  in  the  vicinity  of  the  East  River  ;  for  the  proprietor  had 
within  a  few  days  received  almost  unlimited  requisitions  from 
divers  ship-owners  and  masters,  to  procure  crews  for  their 
vessels.  The  office  was  thronged  to  excess  with  seamen, 
"  Outward  bounders,"  as,  in  nautical  parlance,  Jack  is  termed, 
when  he  has  run  his  tether  to  its  full  length  ashore,  and  hav 
ing  spent  the  hard  earned  wages  of  months,  and  sometimes  of 
years,  in  a  few  days,  finds  himself  snubbed  by  his  landlady  and 


14  THE  CABIN  BOv's  STORY. 

looked  shy  upon  by  the  fair,  but  frail  nymphs,  in  the  sunshine 
of  whose  favors  he  so  lately  basked. 

But,  strange  to  say,  there  was  not  that  seeming  anxiety 
amongst  the  men  to  get  a  berth,  almost  without  regard  to  the 
place  of  their  destination,  that  was  customary  when  the  throng 
was  so  great.  The  hardy  fellows  rather  seemed  to  hang  back — 
albeit,  they  had  not  "  a  shot  left  in  the  locker" — and  to  feel  a 
desire  to  pick  and  choose  with  all  the  nicety  and  independence 
of  a  cautious  "  Homeward  bounder,"  determined  to  take  warn 
ing  from  past  follies  and  mishaps,  and  go  to  sea  again  before 
his  pockets  had  been  drained  by  land  sharks  in  the  shape  of 
landlords,  tavern  keepers,  sharpers,  long-shore-men,  cypriaus 
ct  hoc  genus  omne.  Let  us  listen  awhile  to  what  was  going  on, 
and  we  may  be  able  to  understand  how  this  happened.  A 
stout,  burly,  black  whiskered,  weather-beaten,  and  yet,  withal, 
good-tempered  looking  man,  walked  into  the  office,  elbowed  his 
way  through  the  crowd  of  sailors,  and  approaching  the  ship 
ping  master,  said,  "  Good  morning  Mr.  Sharply — have  you  got 
my  crew  all  ready  ?  We  haul  out  at  four  o'clock  this  after 
noon,  and  I  must  have  the  men  all  on  board  by  that  time." 

"  I  am  sorry  to  say  captain,"  replied  the  shipping  master, 
"  that  there  are  six  hands  wanting  yet.  'Pon  my  word,  in  all 
my  experience  I  never  saw  such  a  difficulty  in  procuring  sailors 
for  these  northern  voyages."  Then,  raising  his  voice,  and 
addressing  the  assembled  seamen,  he  shouted — 

"  Now,  lads,  who's  for  a  trip  to  Antwerp  in  the  '  Mermaid  T 
— Fine  ship — A — 1 — good  captain — first-rate  provisions — tip 
top  wages,  and  a  capital  time  of  year  for  the  voyage.  Six 
hands  wanted,  at  two  dollars  a  month  above  ordinary  wages." 

There  was  no  reply  to  these  tempting  offers.  Two  or  three 
men  seemed  half-inclined  to  come  forward  ;  but  they  drew  back 
again — a  low  conversation  was  kept  up  amidst  the  throng  for 
a  few  minutes,  and  then  all  was  silent. 

The  captain  and  the  shipping  master  both  looked  disap 
pointed,  but  in  the  course  of  a  few  minutes,  the  former  left  the 
office  saying  sotto  voce  to  the  shipping  master,  as  he  turned  to 
go  away — 

"  Mr.  Sharply,  you  must  get  me  six  men  by  four  o'clock,  by 
hook  or  by  crook — some  way  or  other  ;  even  if  you  have  still 
to  increase  the  wages." 

Scarcely  had  the  captain  of  the  Antwerp  ship  left  the  office 
before  another  captain  entered.  He  saluted  the  shipping 
master  familiarly,  and  asked  if  his  crew  was  ready. 


THE  CABIN  BOY'S  STORY.  15 

"  Hardly  yet/'  replied  the  latter  smiling,  "  hardly  yet,  cap 
tain.  I  only  received  your  order  an  hour  ago — but  I  shall 
have  no  difficulty  in  procuring  you  a  first-rate  crew  immedi 
ately." 

"  Who  wants  to  go  to  San  Francisco,"  continued  he,  ad 
dressing  the  sailors,  "  I  want  fourteen  hands  for  the  Flying 
Fish,  to  sail  to-morrow  morning  ?" 

Scarcely  had  the  words  escaped  his  lips,  before  there  was  a 
rush  to  the  desk  of  twice  the  number  of  hands  wanted,  all 
eager  to  register  their  names  for  the  voyage.  The  requisite 
crew  was  soon  procured,  and  it  was  not  until  the  day  began  to 
grow  late,  and  there  appeared  no  more  prospect  of  any  fresh 
calls  for  California  voyages,  that  any  desire  was  expressed  to 
ship  on  board  other  vessels.  Then,  however,  the  men  who 
were  left,  thrust  their  hands  disconsolately  into  their  empty 
pockets,  and  began  to  think  of  the  cool  reception  they  were 
likely  to  meet  with  at  their  boarding-houses,  and  after  some 
cogitation,  reluctantly  expressed  their  readiness  to  take  such 
chances  as  still  offered  themselves,  and  by  this  means,  the 
requisite  crews  for  the  less  popular  voyages  were  procured. 

The  office  was  considerably  thinned  of  its  numbers  ;  indeed, 
but  very  few  remained,  and  most  of  these  rather  stayed  from 
curiosity,  than  from  any  immediate  desire  to  procure  ships,  and 
the  shipping  master  was  beginning  to  think  of  closing  his  office 
for  the  night,  for  it  was  growing  dark,  when  a  tall,  dark,  and 
exceedingly  handsome  young  man,  a  seaman  evidently — his 
bronzed  complexion  told  that — but  having  the  martial  bearing 
of  an  officer  of  the  navy,  rather  than  a  merchant  captain,  entered 
the  office. 

He  saluted  the  shipping  master  as  the  others  had  done  be 
fore  him,  and  then  put  the  same  question  to  him  with  regard 
to  his  crew — 

"  No,  Captain  Seymour,"  replied  the  shipping  master,  "  since 
you  are  so  extremely  particular  with  regard  to  the  crew  you 
wish  to  ship,  I  had  rather  that  you  would  pick  out  the  men 
yourself.  If  you  will  call  to-morrow,  I  will  have  some  that  I 
think  will  suit  you  on  hand,  and  will  then  let  you  explain  mat 
ters  to  them.  Let  me  see,  you  are  bound  to " 

"To — Acapulco — and — and  to  California,"  replied  the  cap 
tain,  with  a  strange  hesitation  in  his  speech.  "  You  know  the 
kind  of  men  I  want ;  none  of  your  milksop — half  and  half  fel 
lows — but  thorough  sea  dogs — every  one  of  them  ;  fellows  that 
will  stand  any  hardship,  and  do  any  amount  of  fighting,  if  it 
be  necessary." 


16  THE  CABIN  BOY'S  STORY. 

"  I  understand  you,  Captain  Seymour,"  replied  the  shipping 
master  ;  and  I  have  had  my  eye  for  some  days  past  on  just 
such  a  set  of  men  as  you  require  ;  but,  as  I  said  before,  you  had 
better  call  in  the  morning  and  arrange  matters  for  yourself." 

"  I  will  do  so,"  replied  the  captain  ;  arid  wishing  the  ship 
ping  master  "  Good-night,"  he  left  the  office. 

Just  before  the  last-mentioned  captain  had  entered,  a  young, 
delicate-looking,  but  very  dark-complexioned  lad  had  joined  the 
crowd  of  seamen.  He  was  evidently  anxious  to  procure  a 
berth,  and  was  about  to  press  forward  to  the  shipping  master's 
desk,  when,  observing  Captain  Seymour,  he  was  apparently 
seized  with  a  nervous  timidity,  which  had  been  sufficiently 
manifest  before  to  attract  the  notice,  and  call  forth  the  coarse 
jokes  of  the  rude  seamen  who  were  standing  near  him,  and  he 
shrunk  back  again  in  a  corner,  evidently  endeavoring  to  escape 
notice.  He  had  not  been  perceived  by  the  shipping  master, 
and  yet  it  appeared  that  he  had  been  a  previous  applicant  at 
the  office  for  a  berth,  for  after  the  captain  had  retired,  the 
shipping  master,  as  he  stepped  down  from  his  desk  to  clear  out 
and  close  the  office,  recognised  him,  and  said — 

"  Ha  !  Davis — you  here  ?  I  didn't  see  you  before.  Wait 
a  moment  till  I  close  the  shutters.  I  want  to  speak  with  you." 

The  lad  did  as  he  was  desired  ;  and  when  the  shipping  mas 
ter  had  closed  all  up,  he  returned  to  his  desk,  lit  a  candle,  and 
called  the  lad  to  him. 

"  You  want  to  go  to  California,  you  say,  Davis.  I  have  two 
or  three  crews  to  ship  for  vessels  bound  for  San  Francisco,  to 
morrow  or  next  day  ;  be  on  hand,  and  perhaps  I  may  be  able 
to  get  you  a  berth.  You  have  been  to  sea  before  ?" 

"  No  Sir  !"  timidly  replied  the  lad,  "  that  is  to  say,"  he  con 
tinued,  "  I  have  once  made  a  voyage  to  and  fro  between  New 
York  and  Liverpool." 

"  Indeed  !  Why,  to  look  at  your  sun-burnt  face,  one  would 
have  thought  you  had  been  a  cruise  to  the  West  Indies,  or  some 
part  of  the  tropics.  Well,  come  to-morrow,  and  I  will  see  what 
can  be  done." 

"  I  should  like  to  get  a  berth  on  board  the  Albatross,"  said 
the  lad. 

"On  board  the  Albatross  !  Why,  my  boy,  I  think  you  are 
hardly  fitted  to  make  one  of  her  crew.  Why  did  you  not  speak 
to  Captain  Seymour  when  he  was  here  just  now  ?" 

"  I  was  afraid,"  replied  the  lad,  "  I  wish  you  would  speak 
for  me.  I  did  go  and  ask  the  mate,  and  he  told  me  you  had  the 
shipping  of  the  crew." 


THE  CABIN  BOY'S  STORY.  17 

"  Why  not  any  other  vessel  bound  to  California,  as  well  as 
the  Albatross  ?" 

"I  have  taken  a  fancy  to  go  in  the  Albatross  with  Captain 
Seymour/7  replied  the  lad,  blushing  deeply  through  his  bronzed 
cheeks  as  he  spoke,  although  the  shipping-master  did  not  per 
ceive  the  blush. 

"  Well,  I  will  do  what  I  can  for  you,  for  I  like  your  looks  ; 
but  I  can  give  you  but  little  hope  ;  however,  come  here  at  nine 
o'clock  to-morrow  morning,  and  I  will  speak  to  Captain  Sey 
mour  about  you.  You  might  answer  for  his  cabin  boy,  per 
haps." 

The  youth  left  the  office,  and  proceeded  to  his  boarding- 
house,  which  was  not  one  of  those  frequented  by  seamen,  but 
one  of  a  superior  sort,  where  he  had  had  possession  of  a  room 
for  a  week.  He  walked  on  with  hurried  steps,  holding  his  head 
down,  and  striving  apparently  to  escape  notice.  The  shipping 
master  observed  this,  for  he  had  closed  the  office  and  was  fol 
lowing  the  youth  at  a  short  distance. 

"  There  is  something  mysterious  about  that  boy,"  he  said  to 
himself — "  It's  my  belief  he's  running  away  from  home.  His 
looks  show  that  he  comes  of  a  better  class  than  sailor  boys  in 
general.  Some  young  scamp,  I  suppose,  who  has  taken  a  freak 
into  his  head,  which  a  rough  voyage  or  so  will  soon  put  out 
again  ;  however,  he's  a  smart-looking  boy — strange  he  should 
so  particularly  desire  to  go  in  the  Albatross.  I  should  hardly 
think  he  would  be  of  much  use  on  board  her  ;  still,  I'll  give  him 
a  chance." 

On  the  following  morning,  according  to  appointment,  the 
captain  of  the  Albatross  called  at  the  shipping  office  and  select 
ed  his  hands,  and  a  hard,  ill-favored  looking  set  they  were,  and 
an  uncommonly  numerous  crew  the  captain  shipped.  When  at 
length  he  was  satisfied,  the  shipping  master  directed  his  atten 
tion  to  the  boy,  who  had  called  as  he  had  been  directed  on  the 
previous  evening,  but  who,  notwithstanding  his  anxiety  to  ship 
on  board  the  Albatross,  had  kept  himself  in  the  back-ground, 
as  though  he  shrunk  from  the  ordeal  of  examination.  "  Oh,  by 
the  bye,  ca.ptain,  now  you  are  satisfied  with  your  crew,  do  you 
think  you  can  find  room  for  this  lad  ;  he  has  a  particular  desire 
to  sail  in  the  Albatross." 

"  I  don't  think  he'll  be  of  much  service  to  me,"  replied  the 
captain,  "  I  want  no  more  hands  on  board  my  ship  than  can  catch 
mice."  He  was  turning  away  when  he  appeared  struck  with 
something  in  the  appearance  of  the  boy,  for  he  gazed  at  him 
earnestly  and  inquired,  "  What  is  your  name,  boy  ?" 


18  THE    CABIN    BOY'S    STORY. 

"  Henry  Davis,  sir." 

"  Well,  Henry,  I  may  want  a  lad  to  mix  my  grog  for  me,  in 
fine  weather.  I  don't  suppose  for  some  time  to  come,  you'll  be 
much  use  ;  but  I  will  give  you  a  berth  as  cabin  boy.  What 
say  you — will  that  suit  you  ?" 

"  Yes,  sir,"  replied  the  youth,  his  eyes  beaming  with  delight, 
"  I  shall  be  glad  to  accept  the  berth." 

"  Well,  then,  be  in  readiness  with  the  rest  of  the  crew  this 
afternoon  ;  or  stay,  is  your  kit  all  ready  ?" 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  Well  then,  go  on  board  at  once,  and  tell  the  mate  I  sent 
you." 

The  youth  did  as  he  was  desired,  and  in  the  evening  of  the 
same  day  the  Albatross  was  hauled  out  into  the  stream.  Two 
or  three  loungers  on  the  pier  wondered  to  themselves  what  a 
vessel  bound  to  Acapulco  and  California,  needed  so  many  water 
casks  for  ;  for  at  the  very  last  moment  a  barge  load  of  "  shak 
ings,"  as  staves  and  hoops  for  the  manufacture  of  casks  are 
called,  was  taken  on  board  ;  and  other  remarks  were  made  res 
pecting  the  number  of  the  crew  ;  some  said,  jokingly,  that  the 
captain  meant  to  fill  the  casks  with  gold  dust — and  one  or  two 
knowing  fellows  whispered  that  they  had  heard  there  was  no 
insurance  upon  the  vessel,  which  was  strange  for  so  fine  a  ship ; 
but  the  Albatross  was  soon  out  in  the  stream,  and  the  loungers 
and  lookers-on  returned  home. 


THE  CABIN  BOY'S  STORY.  19 


CHAPTER    II. 

The  reader  is  introduced  to  a  New  York  merchant  and  his  family.    The 
mysterious  disappearance  of  Jane  Miller. 

A  FEW  weeks  prior  to  the  date  of  the  occurrences  recorded 
in  the  preceding  chapter,  a  large  party  was  assembled  at  the 
splendid  residence  of  an  extensive  and  wealthy  ship-owner, 
situated  in  one  of  the  most  fashionable  localities  in  the  upper 
portion  of  the  city. 

Seated  on  a  sofa  at  one  end  of  the  large  apartment  that  was 
thrown  open  for  dancing,  were  two  young  ladies,  daughters  of 
the  merchant,  whom  we  will  call  Mordant.  Near  them  were 
two  other  ladies,  one  of  whom  had  just  left  off  playing  on  the 
piano-forte,  and  the  other  was  engaged  in  languidly  turning 
over  the  leaves  of  a  Book  of  Beauty,  which  lay  upon  a  side- 
table  near  by. 

"I  am  glad  you've  found  time  to  stop  jingling  away  at  the 
piano,  Ellen,"  said  Sarah  Mordant,  the  elder  of  the  sisters  to 
her  cousin,  Ellen  Urquhart.  "  Come,  now,  give  us  your  opi 
nion  of  Captain  Seymour.  Isn't  he  handsome  ?" 

"  He  is  a  charming  young  man,"  said  Ellen,  "  so  gentlemanly, 
and  such  an  elegant  dancer." 

"And  what  a  sweet  moustache,  and  what  lovely  black  eyes 
and  curly  hair  he  has,"  said  Adeline,  the  other  cousin,  whose 
interest  in  the  Book  of  Beauty  seemed  to  have  departed  now 
Captain  Seymour  had  become  the  theme  of  her  cousin's  and  her 
sister's  conversation. 

"I  wonder  what  he  can  see  to  admire  so  much  in  Jane  Mil 
ler,"  said  Mary,  the  younger  daughter  of  the  merchant,  joining 
in  the  conversation — "I  wish  mamma  wouldn't  ask  Jane  here 
when  Captain  Seymour  is  coming — he  directs  all  his  attention 
to  her.  It's  hardly  polite." 

"I  saw  him  waltzing  with  you  to-night,  Mary,"  interposed 
Adeline. 

"Yes— just  for  one  waltz,  and  then  back  he  went  to  Jane 
and  asked  her  hand  for  the  next  dance.  It  is  so  always.  I 
have  no  patience  with  him." 

"  I  can't  think  what  he  so  admires  in  Jane,"  said  Sarah 
Mordant;  I  don't  think  her  pretty." 


20  THE  CABIN  BOY'S  STORY. 

"  Pretty!  no  indeed,"  exclaimed  the  other  ladies,  in  a  breath, 
and  with  a  toss  of  their  own  beautiful  heads,  and  Mary  added — 

"  I  am  sure  there  are  many  in  the  room  whose  charms  quite 
eclipse  those  of  Jane  Miller. 

Several  gentlemen  now  came  up  and  solicited  the  honpr  of 
being  the  partners  of  the  discontented  belles  for  the  next  dance, 
and  the  conversation  was  for  the  time  suspended. 

While  they  are  thus  engaged  we  will  introduce  Jane  Miller 
to  the  reader,  and  explain  the  origin  of  her  intimacy  with  the 
beau  of  the  evening — the  envy  of  his  own  sex  and  the  admired 
of  the  fair — the  gay,  handsome  and  gallant  Captain  Seymour. 

Notwithstanding  the  remarks  of  the  young  ladies  in  disparage 
ment  of  Jane  Miller's  personal  attractions,  she  was,  in  reality  a 
very  pretty  girl,  of  perhaps  eighteen  years  of  age.  She  was 
the  daughter  of  a  widow  lady  at  this  time  on  a  visit  to  some 
friends  in  New  York  and  its  vicinity;  but  whose  abode  was  in 
one  of  the  New  England  States,  near  the  sea-shore,  where  she 
owned  a  small  farm  which  ensured  her  a  competence,  though  a 
very  small  one.  Jane's  father,  who  had  been  a  clergyman,  had 
died  when  she  was  still  a  child,  and  the  widow  was  left  with  a 
son  and  daughter.  The  son  was  the  younger  of  the  two,  and 
was,  at  this  period,  still  at  school,  studying  for  the  naval  service. 
Mr.  Mordant,  whose  wife  was  the  sister  of  the  late  Mr.  Miller, 
(hence  the  intimacy  of  the  family)  had  promised  to  procure  a 
midshipman's  appointment  for  the  youth,  as  soon  as  he  had 
completed  his  studies.  Mrs.  Miller  was  residing  at  this  time 
near  Jersey  City,  but  she  with  her  daughter  had  been  invited 
to  the  ball. 

Captain  Seymour  was  the  commander  of  one  of  Mr.  Mordant's 
vessels,  and  for  some  reason  unknown,  was  treated  by  the  mer 
chant  on  terms  of  equality  not  accorded  to  any  other  captains 
in  his  employ.  There  were  many  surmises  regarding  the  cause 
of  this  favor.  Some  said  that  Captain  Seymour  was  himself  a 
relative  of  the  family;  others,  that  although  captain  of  a 
merchantman,  he  was  very  wealthy;  again  it  was  said  that  he 
bore  a  commission  in  the  navy.  However,  though  none  could 
correctly  define  his  position,  all  agreed  that  he  was  one  of  the  most 
gentlemanly  and  most  elegant  men  they  had  ever  known — full 
of  wit  and  gaiety,  and  capable  of  rendering  himself  agreeable  to 
all  with  whom  he  came  in  contact.  Consequently  he  was  a 
constant  visitor  at  all  the  gay  parties  given  in  the  neighborhood, 
and  languishing  glances  were  cast  upon  him  by  more  than  one 
fair  damsel.  He  danced,  and  flirted  and  talked  with  all,  but 


THE  CABIN  BOYS  STORY.  21 

greatly  to  the  annoyance  of  his  fair  friends,  Jane  Miller,  the 
humblest  of  all  the  belles  he  met  in  this  gay  society,  seemed  to 
be  his  favorite.  It  is  true  that  some  ill-natured  reports  got 
abroad  that  were  prejudicial  to  the  character  of  Seymour.  It 
was  said  that  he  had  played  the  gay  deceiver  with  many  a 
trusting  heart;  but  these  reports  did  not  injure  him  in  the 
estimation  of  his  fair  admirers ;  indeed  they  seemed  to  like  him 
better  in  consequence,  and  to  dare  him  to  the  encounter  with 
their  own  charms; — besides,  was  he  not  the  confidential  friend 
of  Mr.  Mordant  ?  and  was  not  that  a  proof  of  his  respectability 
and  integrity  ? 

Several  times  he  had  called  at  the  residence  of  the  widow 
Miller  in  New  Jersey,  for  the  express  purpose  of  seeing  Jane, 
and  taking  her  out  for  a  ride  with  him — and  both  the  mother  and 
the  daughter  were  proud  of  the  favor  he  had  shown  them. 

Thus  matters  were  progressing  until  about  three  weeks  before 
the  period  at  which  we  first  introduced  Captain  Seymour  to 
the  reader.  His  visits  to  Jane  became  more  and  more  frequent, 
and  it  was  thought  that  something  more  than  mere  friendship 
was  intended  by  these  visits.  At  this  period,  however,  Jane 
Miller  received  an  anonymous  letter  written  in  a  female  hand, 
which  read  as  follows: 

"  Lady,  beware  of  the  man  who  calls  himself  Captain  Sey 
mour  :  he  has  deceived  me  and  others  ;  he  will. deceive  you.  If 
you  think  he  wishes  to  make  you  his  wife,  I  tell  you  he  cannot 
and  dare  not.  Do  not  disregard  this  warning,  and  you  may 
hear  from  me  again. 

"  One  whose  hopes  George  Seymour  has  blighted." 

Jane  Miller  was  greatly  distressed  upon  the  receipt  of  this 
letter,  for  words  stronger  than  those  of  mere  friendship  had 
passed  between  her  and  Seymour. 

She  resolved,  after  much  thought  and  a  severe  mental  strug 
gle,  to  show  Seymour  the  letter.  She  would  not  allow  her 
lover's  fair  fame  to  be  injured  and  her  own  hopes  blasted  by  an 
anouymous  and  probably  a  false  and  malicious  letter,  and  on 
their  next  meeting  she  accepted  his  invitation  to  walk  with  him 
as  usual,  and  after  some  conversation,  told  him  of  the  letter  she 
had  received,  and  showed  it  to  him. 

He  laughed  at  it.  A  mean  device  of  some  of  my  fair,  jea 
lous  friends,  your  rivals  for  my  good  graces  Jane,"  said  he. 
"  Heed  them  not  ;  I  like  you  better  than  they,  and  that  is  the 
cause  of  their  malice." 

Jane  believed  him,  for  her  heart  inclined  her  to  listen  to  the 


22  THE    CABIN    BOY'S    STORY. 

denial  of  the  charges  preferred  against  him,  therefore,  very 
little  protestation  on  his  part  satisfied  her  ;  (but  had  she  been 
less  infatuated,  she  could  but  have  noted  the  hollow,  tremulous 
tone  of  voice  in  which  he  spoke.  Had  she  gazed  upon  his  fea 
tures  with  an  earnest  gaze  of  scrutiny,  at  that  moment  she 
would  have  noticed  the  quiver  of  the  muscles  of  his  face  and 
the  pallor  of  his  complexion  ;  but  all  was  over  in  a  moment,  and 
his  countenance  resumed  its  composure,  his  voice  its  assured  and 
measured  tone.) 

A  few  days  after  this,  however,  Mrs.  Miller  received  a  simi 
lar  letter  to  that  which  had  been  received  by  her  daughter,  and 
shortly  afterwards  Jane  received  a  third  letter  written  in  the 
same  handwriting.  The  mother's  fears  were  aroused,  and  she 
forbade  her  daughter  to  see  Seymour,  and  for  three  days  Jane 
complied  with  ner  mother's  request.  She  herself  had  become 
alarmed,  and  she  refused  the  captain's  visits.  Still  her  heart 
refused  to  cast  him  off,  without  further  proof  than  that  which 
a  mere  letter,  the  writer  of  which  was  unknown,  could  afford. 

She  listened  again  to  his  importunities,  and  promised,  un 
known  to  her  mother,  who  was  absent  on  a  visit  of  a  few  days' 
duration  at  her  New  England  home,  to  walk  out  with  him  and 
listen  to  his  explanations. 

When,  a  few  days  after,  the  widow  returned  home,  her 
daughter  was  not  to  be  found.  The  widow  was  in  an  agony  of 
distress.  Captain  Seymour  was  interrogated,  and  he  confessed 
to  have  walked  out  with  her  on  the  Jersey  shore  of  the  river, 
a  few  days  before,  and  to  have  escorted  her  back  to  her '  home, 
and  left  her  at  the  door  of  her  mother's  house. 

The  other  occupants  of  the  house  did  not  recollect  seeing  her 
after  she  left  the  house  with  Capt.  Seymour,  but  felt  no  alarm, 
as  they  supposed  she  had  gone  on  a  visit  to  her  friends  in  the 
city. 

Seymour  appeared  as  much  grieved  and  shocked  as  the  rest 
of  the  friends  who  had  known  her.  Every  search  was  made  in 
vain;  but  it  was  discovered  by  the  widow  that  her  daughter's 
jewelry  had  been  removed,  as  well  as  a  considerable  portion  of 
her  clothing  ;  and,  as  she  believed,  by  her  daughter's  hand,  from 
the  particular  articles  that  had  been  taken,  and  the  care  and 
caution  with  which  the  selection  had  been  made. 

The  Albatross  sailed  about  a  week  after  this  ;  but,  during 
that  week,  Captain  Seymour  called  frequently  upon  the  widow, 
and  always  expressed  great  anxiety  and  distress  respecting 
Jane.  Captain  Seymour  had  been  gone  from  the  port  about  a 


23 

week,  when  the  neighborhood  of  Mrs.  Miller's  residence  was 
alarmed  by  a  report  that  the  body  of  a  young  woman,  which 
had  apparently  been  two  or  three  weeks  in  the  water,  and  the 
features  of  which  were  so  much  decomposed  as  to  prevent  the 
possibility  of  recognition,  had  been  picked  up  by  some  boatmen, 
floating  near  the  banks  of  the  river.  Some  persons  who  had 
seen  the  body,  said  that  the  clothing  (what  remained  of  it,  for 
it  had  been  much  torn)  resembled  -that  nsually  worn  by  Jane 
Miller,  and  the  unhappy  widow  went  to  see  the  body.  She 
thought  she  recognized  the  clothing,  and  also  a  ring  on  the 
third  finger  of  the  right  hand,  that  had  been  placed  there  by 
Captain  Seymour  in  the  mother's  presence,  at  the  time  when 
she  thought  the  Captain's  intentions  to  her  daughter  were  dic 
tated  by  feelings  of  honor,  and  when  she  had,  therefore,  rather 
encouraged  his  addresses,  little  dreaming  that  she  would  have 
been  so  soon  called  on  to  mourn  over  so  melancholy  a  termina 
tion  of  that  daughter's  earthly  career.  But  who  was  the 
murderer  ?  Did  her  poor  child  die  by  violence  or  by  suicide  ? 
These  were  the  fearful  questions  that  alternately  presented 
themselves  to  the  widow's  mind.  Perhaps  she  had,  by  forbid 
ding  her  daughter  any  further  intercourse  with  Captain  Sey 
mour,  been  the  cause  of  the  rash  act  which  now  placed  that 
daughter's  form  in  its  present  shape,  before  her  ?  Again,  it 
might  be  that  the  author  of  the  mysterious  letters  which  she 
and  her  daughter  had  received,  was  in  some  way  connected  with 
the  murder  ;  or  perhaps,  Captain  Seymour  was  really  the  bad 
man  her  anonymous  correspondent  described  him  to  be.  Each 
of  these  propositions  had  some  weight,  but  none  of  them  were 
sufficiently  proved  to  settle  the  question  in  her  mind. 

A  coroner's  jury  was  summoned,  and  an  inquest  was  held,  and 
after  such  evidence  as  could  be  brought  forward  was  heard, 
the  jury  returned  a  verdict  to  the  effect  that  "  the  deceased 
came  to  her  death  by  drowning  accidentally  or  otherwise,"  and 
that  was  all  that  was  known  of  the  matter.  Mrs.  Miller  had 
the  body  decently  interred.  Some  time  after,  a  gentleman 
residing  in  the  neighborhood,  with  whom  the  widow  was  par 
tially  acquainted,  informed  her  that  he  had  met  her  daughter 
walking  out  with  the  captain,  about  the  period  of  her  disap 
pearance,  and  that  both  appeared  to  be  highly  excited.  The 
captain  was  vehemently  expostulating,  and  the  young  lady  was 
weeping.  He  said  they  were  on  the  banks  of  the  river  when 
he  met  them,  near  the  spot  where  the  body  was  found.  He 
hinted  his  suspicions  of  Seymour  ;  but  the  widow,  almost  heart- 


24 

broken,  disregarded  them.  She,  too,  had  her  suspicions,  and 
she  had  spoken  to  Mr.  Mordant  about  Seymour  ;  but  the  mer 
chant  had  given  the  captain  so  high  a  character,  that  she 
scarcely  knew  what  to  think.  She  had  noticed  the  state  of 
excitement  he  had  appeared  to  be  in  when  he  called  upon  her. 
after  her  daughter's  disappearance  ;  but  this  might  either  be 
the  excitement  of  guilt  or  that  of  natural  feeling  and  anxiety. 
She,  therefore,  kept  her  suspicions  within  her  own  breast. 
Mrs.  Miller  wore  the  ring  as  a  memento  of  her  lost  child  and 
her  sad  fate.  She  could  not  take  any  measures  calculated  to 
clear  up  the  mystery  surrounding  her  daughter's  disappearance, 
except  such  as  she  felt  would  rake  up  sad  remembrances  she 
would  sooner  let  slumber. 


CHAPTER  III. 

The  Albatross  sails  from  New  York,  and  the  secret  object  of  her  voyage 
becomes  known. 

SOME  days  had  elapsed  since  the  departure  of  the  Albatross. 
The  vessel,  notwithstanding  she  had  a  very  light  cargo  on  board, 
had  been  so  hampered,  at  the  moment  of  sailing,  with  goods 
that  had  been  brought  down  in  a  hurry,  and  were  as  hurriedly 
taken  on  board,  that  it  had  occupied  all  this  interval  to  stow 
things  away  in  their  places,  and  make  everything  shipshape. 
As  long  as  this  necessary  work  was  going  on,  Captain  Seymour 
had  displayed  great  energy,  superintending  the  arrangement  of 
everything  himself,  and  scarcely  seeming  to  need  rest.  For 
tunately,  the  weather  was  fair,  and  the  work  was  effected  with 
greater  rapidity  than  it  would  otherwise  have  been,  and  at  the 
expiration  of  the  period  alluded  to  above,  the  Albatross  wore 
an  entirely  different  aspect  ;  she  had  proceeded  to  sea  more 
lumbered  up  than  is  usual  with' even  vessels  employed  in  carry 
ing  emigrants  or  troops  ;  in  fact,  many  persons  wondered  for 
what  cause  hor  departure  had  been  so  hurried  ;  now  she  pre 
sented  the  neat  and  trim  appearance  of  a  pleasure  yacht,  or  of 
a  ship  of-  war.  The  utmost  cleanliness  was  observable  every 
where,  above  and  below,  and  her  decks  were  "  holy  stoned"  to 
an  almost  chalky  whiteness.  Every  visible  piece  of  metal  was 
polished  until  it  shone  like  burnished  gold  and  silver,  and  where- 
ever  the  paint  on  her  sides  or  bulwarks  had  been  chafed  or 


THE    CABIN    BOY'S    STORY.  25 

smeared,  in  the  hurry  and  bustle  of  preparing  for  sea,  the  spot 
was  carefully  retouched,  until  not  a  speck  was  to  be  found  to 
mar  the  exquisite  finish  of  the  beautiful  craft,  within  or  with 
out.  All  this  labor,  however,  had  been  so  systematically  ef 
fected,  so  apportioned  out  to  the  crew,  which  was,  as  we  have 
noticed,  exceedingly  numerous,  that,  although  all  were  busy, 
the  work  did  not  fall  with  excessive  severity  upon  any  one, 
unless  it  were  on  the  captain  himself.  The  man-o'-war  regula 
tion  of  "watch  and  watch"  was  strictly  observed,  and  every 
officer  and  seaman  had  his  share  of  needful  rest. 

Up  to  this  period  the  sailors  had  had  little  time  or  opportunity 
to  become  acquainted  with  each  other,  or  to  indulge  in  specula 
tions  relative  to  the  voyage,  as  is  generally  customary  ;  still  it 
was  very  evident  that  some  eight  or  ten  amongst  them  knew 
more  than  the  others,  and  they  kept  their  council  to  them 
selves.  The  crew  had  been  divided  into  "  messes,"  and  to  each 
"  mess"  two  or  more  of  the  knowing  ones  had  been  appointed, 
not  for  the  purpose,  as  it  appeared,  of  exercising  any  authority 
over  the  others,  still  not  without  some  obvious  cause  for  the 
arrangement  on  the  part  of  the  commander. 

Another  regulation,  seldom,  however,  to  be  met  with  except  in 
national  vessels,  but  which  was  observed  on  board  the  Albatross, 
was  the  complete  seclusion  of  the  captain  from  his  officers.  It 
is  generally  customary,  however  private  the  captain's  cabin  may 
be  at  other  times,  for  the  first  and  second  mates  to  take  their 
meals  there,  in  company  with  the  captain  himself ;  not  so  on 
board  the  Albatross.  The  crew  were  divided  into  three 
"  watches,"  under  the  command,  severally,  of  the  first,  second, 
and  third  mates,  and  these  officers  "  messed"  together,  in  a 
small  cabin  partitioned  off  from  the  after  part  of  the  steerage 
deck  on  the  starboard  side  ;  while  a  similar  cabin  on  the  lar 
board  side,  immediately  opposite,  was  appropriated  to  the  boat 
swain,  carpenter,  sail-maker,  armorer,  and  gunner — none  of 
whom  were  expected  to  keep  watch  at  night,  but  who  were  all 
required  to  be  on  duty  the  whole  of  the  day — although  the  du 
ties  of  the  two  latter  officers  seemed  merely  nominal,  and  were  the 
source  of  much  speculation  and  not  a  llltle  merriment  to  many 
of  the  crew. 

It  is  necessary  that  we  now  endeavor  to  describe  the  appear 
ance  of  the  mates,  upon  whom,  now  that  the  ship  was  made 
"  tight  and  trim,"  appeared  to  be  devolved  by  the  captain,  her 
sole  management. 

The  first  maie  was  a  tall,  sinewy-built,  athletic  Yankee — a 

2 


26  THE    CABIN    BOY  S    STORY. 

fair  specimen,  if  one  might  form  a  judgment  from  his  appearance 

of  the  nautical  produce,  in  human  form,  of  Nantucket  and 

Martha's  Vineyard.  His  age  might  have  been  fifty,  for  his 
dark  hair  was  slightly  grizzled,  as  were  also  the  bushy  dark 
whiskers,  slightly  tinged  with  red,  which  met  beneatli  his  chin 
and  almost  concealed  his  sinewy  throat.  His  face  was  furrow 
ed  with  deep  marks,  and  the  skin  was  tanned  to  a  fiery  bronze 
color,  which  effectually  resisted,  now,  any  further  action  of  the 
elements,  and  the  large  collar  of  his  coat  was  usually  turned 
down  over  his  broad  shoulders,  exposing  his  brawny  chest.  His 
mouth  had  acquired  a  permanent  upward  twist,  in  consequence 
of  his  habit  of  constantly  keeping  a  huge  plug  of  tobacco  in  his 
left  cheek,  and  from  the  opposite,  downward  corner  of  his 
mouth,  a  canal,  through  which  the  surplus  tobacco  juice  con 
stantly  flowed  on  to  his  chin,  had  been  created  by  the  same 
habit.  The  expression  of  his  face,  though  indicative  of  reckless 
ness,  had  not,  perhaps,  originally  been  unpleasant ;  but  constant 
exposure  from  boyhood,  to  freezing  winds  and  scorching  heats, 
and  the  presence  of  a  suspicious  cicatrized  wound  extending 
from  his  brow  across  his  cheek  bope  to  the  lower  part  of  the 
face  in  front  of  the  left  ear,  gave  him  a  stern,  sinister  aspect, 
that  was  not  calculated  to  impress  the  beholder  favorably.  The 
name  of  this  worthy  was  Abijah  Tolcroft,  and  he  was  as  rough 
and  ungainly  in  his  actions  and  conversation  as  he  was  in 
appearance,  although  generally  tolerably  good-tempered  after 
his  own  fashion  ;  but  there  was  one  peculiarity  in  Abijah — he 
could  not  endure  to  be  questioned  with  regard  to  the  scar  upon 
his  face,  and  the  unlucky  querist  who  alluded  to  it  in  his  pre 
sence,  was  sure  to  arouse  his  ire,  although  sometimes,  he  would 
say  to  himself,  casually,  as  though  in  excuse  for  its  ugliness, 
that  it  had  been  occasioned  by  his  falling  forward  upon  the  gun 
wale  of  a  whale-boat,  when  he  was  a  mere  boy.  So  much  for 
Abijah  Tolcroft,  who,  from  his  position,  necessarily  was  a  pro 
minent  personage  on  board  of  the  Albatross.  The  subordinate 
officers  we  shall  describe  more  briefly  ;  the  second  mate, 
Edward  Allan,  was  a  short,  stout  young  man  of  about  twenty- 
eight  years  of  age  ;  he  possessed  a  very  dark  complexion,  with 
regular  and  handsome  features,  was  lively  in  disposition  and 
usually  good  tempered  ;  but  liable  to  sudden  gusts  of  uncon- 
trolable  passion.  He  hailed  from  Virginia,  but  his  accent  was 
that  of  a  foreigner,  and  when  carried  away  by  passion,  he  was 
wont  to  indulge  in  terrilic  Spanish  oaths.  Many  persons 
suspected,  although  they  dared  not  hint  it  to  him,  that  ho 


THE    CABIN    BOY  S    STORY.  27 

was  a  Spanish  Creole — and  that,  like  a  good  many  sailors,  he 
went  by  an  adopted  name.  Both  the  above  described  officers 
had  sailed  several  voyages  with  captain  Seymour — but  the  third 
mate,  Francois  Perrin,  a  native  of  Louisiana,  born  of  French 
parents,  and  more  of  a  Frenchman  than  an  American  in  man 
ners  and  appearance,  had  been  shipped  in  New  York. 

Francois  was  quite  a  young  man,  apparently  not  more  than 
twenty-five  years  of  age  ;  but  of  immense  stature,  possessed  of 
great  personal  strength,  and  morose  and  surly  in  his  disposi 
tion.  Such  as  we  have  described  were  the  officers  of  the  Al 
batross. 

The  captain's  quarters  were  more  retired,  and  consisted  of 
two  small  cabins,  one  of  which,  the  private  cabin,  was  quite  in 
the  stern  of  the  ship.  It  was  a  small,  very  small  place,  but 
rendered  light  and  airy  by  the  two  stern  windows  and  the 
large  sky-light  above  ;  although  a  mere  closet,  it  was  compact 
and  perfect  in  every  point,  and  furnished  after  a  fashion  that 
would  have  done  credit  to  the  most  refined  taste  ever  shown  in 
the  arrangement  of  a  lady's  boudoir.  A  sofa  of  carved  rose 
wood,  with  crimson  velvet  cushions  and  pillows,  ran  the  whole 
breadth  of  the  stern,  and  formed  a  luxurious  lounge  wherefrom 
to  witness  the  white  foam  that  the  vessel  left  behind  as  she  cut 
her  way  swiftly  through  the  yielding  water,  or,  when  crossing 
the  tropics  to  inhale  the  cool  breeze  and  gaze  down  into  the 
deep,  where  disported  the  many-hued  dolphin  or  the  beautifully 
formed  bonito,  or  to  watch  the  hungry  yet  timid  and  cautious 
shark,  as  surrounded  by  its  parasites  in  the  shape  of  pilot  fish, 
it  now  advanced  towards  the  treacherous  bait  and  smelt  it — 
even  touching  with  its  shovel-like  snout  the  seemingly  dainty 
morsel,  and  then  turned  as  if  seized  with  sudden  fright,  and 
swam  rapidly  away,  again  and  again  to  return,  each  time 
grown  more  bold,  until  at  last  the  fatal  grip  is  made  ;  for  a 
moment  the  white  belly  of  the  huge  monster,  as  it  turns  upward 
to  seize  its  prey,  flashes  like  a  phosphorescent  gleam  beneath  the 
blue  water,  and  then  a  hurried  flight  with  the  line,  and  a 
desperate  thrashing  of  the  water  with  the  monster's  tail,  tells 
that  the  terror  of  the  ocean  is  captured  by  his  inveterate  foe, 
the  sailor.  The  rudder  pipe  was  veneered  with  the  finest 
mahogany,  with  gilded  satin-wood  panels — and  behind  it, 
between  the  two  stern  windows,  was  a  book-case  reaching  from 
the  sofa  to  the  ceiling  of  the  cabin,  well  stored  with  handsomely 
bound  volumes,  chiefly  consisting  of  poetry  arid  works  of 
imagination  of  the 'very  highest  order,  although  the  lower 


28  THE    CABIN    BOY'S    STORY. 

shelf  was  devoted  to  books  of  science  and  navigation  and  com 
merce,  and  other  subjects  connected  with  the  profession  of  tho 
mariner. 

In  the  centre  of  the  cabin,  firmly  lashed  to  the  floor,  was  a 
handsome  centre  table  of  highly  polished,  solid  mahogany,  and 
on  each  side  of  the  cabin  were  two  recesses  adapted  for  sleep 
ing  places,  which  were  hidden  from  view  by  crimson  silk,  and 
muslin  curtains  tastefully  disposed  ;  curtains  of  similar  hue  and 
material  also  shaded  the  cabin  windows.  The  main  portion  of 
the  front  of  the  cabin  was  occupied  by  a  large  mirror,  with  a 
gorgeously  covered  and  gilded  frame,  and  in  the  vacant  places 
round  about,  hung  small  but  exquisitely  finished  paintings, 
while  from  the  ceiling,  immediately  over  the  centre  table,  was 
suspended  a  handsome  gilded  chandelier,  with  ground  glass 
globes. 

The  deck  was  covered  with  oil  cloth  neatly  painted,  and  over 
the  starboard  bed  cabin,  which  was  appropriated  by  Captain 
Seymour  to  his  own  use,  hung  a  pair  of  richly  mounted  pistols, 
and  a  sabre,  carved  after  the  fashion  of  a  Turkish  scimitar, 
encased  in  a  crimson  velvet  scabbard  surmounted  with  gold, 
of  which  metal  the  hilt  appeared  to  be  formed.  The  pistols 
and  sabre,  indeed,  were  the  only  articles  to  be  seen  which 
would  have  led  the  casual  observer  to  disincline  to  the  belief 
that  the  cabin  had  been  purposely  fitted  up  for  the  accommo 
dation  of  a  lady  of  taste  and  fashion.  From  this  beautiful 
little  apartment  doors  on  each  side  of  the  mirror  led  into  the 
fore- cabin  used  by  the  captain  as  a  dining  cabin  and  for  general 
purposes.  Here  the  furniture,  though  good,  was  of  commoner 
material,  and  more  appropriate  to  the  generally  conceived  idea 
of  a  merchant  ship's  cabin.  The  desk  was  covered  with  oil 
cloth,  as  in  the  after  cabin  ;  but  the  only  light  came  from  the 
sky-light  above,  beneath  which  depended,  directly  over  the 
dining  table,  a  thermometer  and  barometer.  Muskets  were 
placed  in  racks  along  the  wainscot  on  either  side,  and  some 
half  dozen  ottomans,  in  lieu  of  chairs,  were  ranged  around  the 
cabin  ;  and,  in  a  bracket  over  the  companion  way,  was  sus 
pended  a  large  ship's  spy  glass.  There  was  no  other  furniture 
in  this  cabin,  except  a  small  mahogany  stand  screwed  down  in 
one  of  the  aft  corners,  on  which  was  firmly  secured  the  captain's 
chronometer.  From  the  fore-cabin  the  deck  was  reached  from 
a  winding  stair-case,  forming  a  semi-circle,  around  which  was 
the  steward's  pantry — with  a  sleeping  place  for  that  functionary 
beneath. 


THE    CABIN    BOY'S    STORY.  29 

There  was,  as  there  are  in  all  merchant  vessels,  a  forecastle 
cabin  on  deck,  filled  with  bunks  and  appropriated  to  the  use  of 
the  sailors — but  after  the  vessel  had  been  thoroughly  set  to 
rights,  to  the  astonishment  of  the  uninitiated  seamen,  these 
bunks  were  filled  up  with  the  immediately  required  stores  of 
the  boatswain,  sailmaker  and  carpenter,  and  the  men  were 
ordered  to  swing  their  hammocks  between  decks,  man-of-war 
fashion — and  to  bring  them  up  every  morning,  at  the  sound  of 
the  boatswain's  whistle,  and  stow  them  in  the  hammock  net 
tings,  the  "  watch  below,"  during  the  hours  of  daylight,  snooz 
ing  on  their  pea  jackets,  on  the  lower  deck,  or  amusing  them 
selves  by  mending  their  clothing,  and  such  other  employments 
as  generally  engage  Jack,  when  at  sea. 

Henry  Davis  had  suffered  severely  from  sea  sickness  during 
the  first  few  days  after  the  vessel  had  left  the  port,  and  he  had 
been  treated  very  leniently  by  the  captain,  or  rather  had  been 
left  pretty  much  to  himself — Captain  Seymour's  time  having 
been,  as  we  have  said,  fully  occupied.  He  had  been  indulged 
with  the  use  of  the  larboard  sleeping  berth  in  the  after  cabin — 
where  rest  for  a  few  days  until  he  had  become  accustomed  to 
the  motion  of  the  vessel,  restored  him  to  his  general  health.  It 
was  understood  that  he  was  then  to  occupy  the  post  of  steward, 
which,  during  his  temporary  sickness  was  filled  by  a  lad  named 
Frank  Martin,  who  had  been  several  voyages  in  others  of  Mr. 
Mordant's  ships,  although  this  was  his  first  trip  in  the  Albat 
ross.  Frank  was  kind  and  considerate  to  his  young  shipmate, 
notwithstanding  he  was  compelled  to  fulfil  his  duties  for  him, 
for  he  had  hitherto  been  employed  wholly  as  a  cabin  boy,  and 
his  ambition  now  prompted  him  to  go  forward  and  rough  it  out 
with  the  foremast  men,  and  to  learn  the  duties  of  a  sailor. 

At  length  Henry  recovered  so  far  as,  by  the  advice  of  the 
captain,  to  go  on  deck  and  take  an  airing — 

"  And  go  with  him,  Frank,"  added  the  captain,  addressing 
the  other  lad — "  have  a  chat  with  him  and  tell  him  the  name 
of  the  ropes  and  sails  ;  it  will  cheer  the  poor  fellow's  spirits  up 
a  little,  I  am  going  to  read  awhile  in  the  after  cabin — and  will 
ring  the  bell  if  I  want  your  services." 

The  two  lads  went  on  deck  together,  and  after  strolling  up 
and  down  the  quarter  deck  for  a  few  minutes,  seated  themselves 
upon  the  tanrail,  and  entered  into  conversation. 

"  Have  you  ever  sailed  with  Captain  Seymour  before,"  asked 
Henry,  or  Harry,  as  he  was  now  called. 

"  No  :  I  have  been  six  voyages  to  sea  in  others  of  Mr.  Mor 
dant's  ships,  but  this  is  my  first  trip  in  the  Albatross." 


30 

"  Are  they  all  as  handsome  ships  as  this  ?"  continued  Harry. 

Frank  laughed — 

"  No,  indeed  they  ain't,"  he  answered.  "  For  my  part,  I 
don't  understand  this  ship  at  all — and  I  don't  understand  Cap 
tain  Seymour  either.  I  once  went  on  board  a  man-of-war,  when 
on  a  voyage  up  the  Mediterranean,  and  they  had  just  such  rules 
and  regulations  aboard  as  they  have  here ;  and,  another  thing, 
I  can  tell  you,  one  half  the  men  don't  seem  to  know  what  to 
make  of  the  appearance  of  things.  I  have  heard  them  talking 
matters  over — and  I  believe  they  would  ask  an  explanation  of 
the  captain  or  the  officers,  if  it  wasn't  for  fear  of  the  others — 
those  rough  looking,  bearded  fellows  that  the  captain  has 
placed  in  every  one  of  the  new  fangled  "  messes"  as  they  are 
called.  These  chaps  hang  together,  and  I  believe,  though  they 
don't  say  so,  that  the  other  men  are  frightened  of  them." 

"Captain  Seymour  seems  to  be  quite  a  gentleman,"  observed 
Harry. 

"  A  good  deal  too  much  of  a  gentleman  for  me  to  understand 
him,"  resumed  his  companion  ;  "  I  will  tell  you  something 
strange.  Do  you  know  that  since  the  third  day  after  leaving 
port  we  have  been  steering  to  the  eastward  instead  of  the  regu 
lar  course  of  California  ships  ?" 

"  Perhaps  the  captain  and  officers  have  their  own  reasons  for 
so  doing,"  replied  Harry. 

"  Perhaps  they  have  ;  reasons  that  no  one  else  can  fathom, 
for  we  are  sailing  close  to  the  wind,  when  a  more  southerly 
course  would  give  us  a  leading  breeze  ;  but  as  to  the  captain, 
I  suppose  he  gives  the  mates  orders  how  to  steer  ;  but  I  never 
before  saw  a  captain  take  so  little  heed  of  what  was  going  on. 
He's  more  like  a  passenger  on  board  than  anything  else  ;  and 
then,  since  we  have  got  into  '  blue  water,'  he  togs  himself  off  in 
a  navy  undress  and  wears  a  cap  with  a  gold  band.  Seems  to 
me  that  either  I've  got  into  an  enchanted  ship,  or  else  into  a 
man-o'-war  in  disguise.  I  can't  understand  it." 

The  bell  in  the  captain's  cabin  rang,  and  Frank  descended  to 
learn  what  the  captain  wanted. 

"  Is  Harry  on  deck  still,  Frank  ?"  asked  the  captain. 

"  Yes  sir,"  replied  the  lad. 

"  Send  him  down  ;  tell  him  I  want  to  speak  to  him,  and 
come  with  him  yourself." 

"  Ay-ay,  sir,"  responded  Frank,  as  he  left  the  cabin  and  re 
joined  his  companion. 

"  Captain  Seymour  wants  you,  Harry,"  said  he,  "  you  are 
to  go  down  with  me  into  the  cabin." 


THE    CABIN    BOY'S    STORY.  31 

Harry  rose  from  his  seat  and  prepared  to  follow  his  young 
shipmate  ;  his  checks  flushed,  and  a  slight  tremor  pervaded  his 
limbs — the  boy  was  naturally  timid,  and  perhaps  he  feared 
that  the  captain,  although  hitherto  considerate  towards  him, 
was  about  to  find  fault  with  him  for  the  idle  life  he  had  led 
since  he  had  come  on  board,  while  every  one  else  had  been  so 
busily  employed — he  followed  Frank  to  the  cabin. 

The  captain  was  reclining  upon  a  sofa  reading  ;  he  laid  aside 
the  book  as  the  boys  entered,  and  thus  addressed  Harry — 

"  Have  you  quite  recovered  from  your  sea  sickness,  boy  ?" 

"  Yes,  sir,  I  hope  I  have,"  answered  the  lad. 

"And  you  will  be  able  to  do  the  light  duties  that  will  in 
future  be  required  of  you  in  the  cabin  ?" 

11 1  hope  so,  sir.     I  will  try  my  best." 

"  Well,  no  one  can  do  more.  All  I  ask  is  that  every  one 
on  board  this  ship  shall  obey  my  orders  implicitly  and  without 
a  murmur  ;  then  you  will  find  me  a  kind  and  considerate 
master — otherwise,  let  them  look  out  for  themselves.  They 
had  better  wish  themselves  in  h — 1  than  on  board  the  Alba 
tross." 

A  stern  expression,  such  as  neither  of  the  lads  had  seen,  be 
fore,  came  over  the  handsome  features  of  the  captain,  as  he 
gave  vent  to  this  last  expression — but  it  immediately  vanished. 
It  made  apparently  but  little  impression  upon  Frank,  but 
Harry  trembled  to  such  a  degree  that  he  was  scarcely  able  to 
reply  that  he  hoped  he  should  be  able  to  please  him. 

"  Don't  be  frightened  boy,"  said  the  captain,  smiling.  "  I 
have  no  doubt  you  and  I  shall  agree  very  well  together.  Con- 
eider  yourself  from  this  moment  installed  into  the  duties  of  my 
steward.  You,  Frank,  Mr.  Mordant  informed  me,  are  anxious 
to  learn  a  seaman's  duties,  so  I  suppose  you  will  be  glad  to  re 
linquish  your  post  to  your  successor.  Well,  you  are  in  the  right, 
boy — I  will  tell  Mr.  Tolcroft  to  appoint  you  to  one  of  the 
messes,  and  I  hope  I  shall  hear  a  good  account  of  you.  You 
can  both  go  now" — and  taking  up  his  book  again,  the  captain 
was  soon  apparently  deeply  absorbed  in  its  contents. 

"Captain  Seymour  has  more  spirit  than  I  gave  him  credit 
for,  in  spite  of  his  dandy  dress  and  his  white  hands,"  whispered 
Frank  to  his  companion. 

"  The  expression  of  his  face  was  terrible,"  answered  Harry 
— still  trembling.  "  I  never  could  have  believed  such  a 
change  could  have  come  over  any  one's  features  in  a  moment, 
least  of  all — so  handsome  a  face  as  that  of  Captain  Seymour— 


32  THE  CABIN  BOY'S  STORY. 

I  am  half  sorry  I  shipped  with  him,"  and  a  deep  but  expressive 
sigh  escaped  from  the  breast  of  the  boy  as  he  spoke. 

Frank  laughed — "  You  will  soon  find  out  that  a  handsome 
face  often  conceals  a  d — Ps  heart,"  he  replied.  "  You  are 
like  a  young  bear,  all  your  sorrows  have  yet  to  come." 

We  have  never  been  able  to  understand  to  what  par 
ticular  sorrows  a  bear  is  subjected,  beyond  those  natural  to  all 
quadrupeds,  or  bipeds,  too,  for  that  matter  ;  but  it  has  been, 
for  time  immemorial,  a  common  expression  amongst  seamen  ;  is, 
by  them,  we  presume,  considered  as  remarkably  witty,  and 
therefore  Frank  is  held  excusable  in  our  opinion  for  delivering 
himself  of  it. 

Harry  Davis  took  charge  of  the  steward's  pantry,  and  Frank 
Martin  went  on  deck  again  to  commence  his  new  duties. 

While  this  conversation  had  been  going  on  in  the  cabin  and 
on  the  quarter  deck — a  group  of  seamen,  tempted  by  the  fine 
ness  of  the  evening,  instead  of  returning  to  their  hammocks, 
when  the  "watch"  was  "  piped  below"  had  seated  themselves 
in  the  head  of  the  vessel,  and  were  amusing  themselves  with 
their  pipes  and  cozy  chat. 

"Tell  ye  what  it  is,  Bill,"  said  one,  as  after  knocking  the 
ashes  out  of  his  pipe,  he  had  temporarily  laid  it  aside.  "Tell 
ye  what  it  is — there  ain't  none  o'  them  black  a  vized  chaps 
within  ear  hail,  be  there  ?" — added  the  man,  stopping  suddenly, 
and  looking  cautiously  around  him. 

"No — by  luck's  chance  there  ain't,  Dick — what  then?" 

"Have  ye  got  any  bacca?" 

"Yes." 

"Then  give  us  a  chaw — and,  shipmates,  I'll  tell  ye  a  bit  of 
my  mind." 

The  quid  was  supplied,  and  Dick  forthwith  deposited  it  in  his 
cheek,  and  giving  it  two  or  three  rolls  over  with  his  tongue,  so 
as  to  draw  out  the  flavor — thus  proceeded. 

"  Shipmates,  there's  somethin'  or  other  as  I  can't  understand 
as  regards  the  regulations  o'  this  here  craft ;  blowed  if  it  don't 
conflisticate  me  entirely.  I've  sailed  in  many  a  craft  in  my 
days.  I've  sailed  aboard  '  Uncle  Sam/  and  I've  sailed  in 
merchantmen  of  every  sort;  but  I  never  seed  sieh  rummy 

moves  as  goes  on  board  this  here  hooker  ;  d me  if  she  ain't 

like  a  craft  as  has  been  metarmorfussed — she's  got  man-o'-war 
rules  without  man-o'-war  guns.  Then  there's  the  skipper 
saunterin'  about,  dressed  as  fine  as  a  leeftenant,  afore  he's  got 
used  to  the  swabs  upon  his  shoulders,  or  a  post-captain  for  the 


33 

matter  of  that,  while  the  first  mate's  as  rough  and  ready  a  chap 
as  ye'd  find  aboard  a  Nantucket  whaler;  t'other  mates  they 
never  hardly  speaks  to  the  crew,  except  it  be  them  black  a 
vized  chaps,  they're  stuck  into  every  mess — and  they  seems  jist 
as  distant  with  the  captain.  Now,  shipmates,  I've  got  some 
thing  else  to  say,  I  don't  pretend  to  be  anything  of  a  schollard, 
seeing  as  how  I  never  had  more  nor  a  quarter's  schoolin'  in  my 
life ;  but  a  fellow  as  has  been  upon  the  salt  water,  man  and  boy, 
a  matter  of  twenty  years  or  more,  doesn't  want  much  book- 
larnin'  to  know  as  a  East  South  East  course  ain't  the  nearest 
way  to  steer  to  reach  the  'Quator,  and  a  barky  must  cross  the 
'Quator,  at  least,  about  amidships  between  the  African  and 
American  shores  to  get  to  Californy.  It's  my  opinion  as  the 
skipper  ain't  bound  to  Californy  at  all.  Then,  shipmates,  who 
on  'arth  ever  see  a  crew  of  well  on  to  thirty  hands,  besides  offi 
cers,  in  a  small  vessel  such  as  this  craft  is  ?  b'lieve  me,  all  ain't 
right  aboard,  and  its  our  dooty  to  know  where  we  are  going  to, 
and  what  sort  of  a  craft  we've  got  aboard  of,"  then  lowering 
his  voice  to  a  whisper,  Dick  added,  "  shipmates,  its  my  private 
opinion  as  this  'ere  blessed  craft  is  either  a  slaver  or  somethin' 
worse." 

"  But  she  ain't  got  no  guns  aboard,"  replied  one  of  the  lis 
teners. 

"  Not  so  far  as  we  knows,"  replied  Dick,  "  but  who  among 
us  knows  what  is  aboard  and  what  ain't ;  she's  got  an  armorer 
and  a  gunner — at  any  rate, — and  I  guess  guns  '11  be  found  when 
they  are  wanted." 

"  The  skipper  don't  look  much  like  a  slaver  captain,"  observed 
one  of  the  group — "  He's  too  soft  spoken,  and  too  dandi 
fied." 

"  If  you'd  had  the  trick  at  the  helm,  night  afore  last,  Tom," 
replied  Dick,  "  you  wouldn't  ha'  said  that.  He  and  the  first 
mate  were  a  talking  earnestly  together,  and  the  mate,  he  said 
somethin'  that  the  skipper  didn't  seem  to  like,  and  blow  me,  if 
I  don't  think  it  was  relating  to  the  crew — however,  whatever 
it  was,  the  skipper  looked  as  savage  as  ever  I  seed  a  man  look 
in  my  life,  and  he  turned  on  his  heel,  and  says  he: 

"  '  We'll  see  when  the  proper  time  comes,  Mr.  Tolcroft  ;  I 
never  found  the  man  yet  who  dare  oppose  my  will,'  and  away 
he  walked,  puffing  the  smoke  from  his  cigar  like  a  high  pressure 
ingi-ne,  as  he  strode  half  a  dozen  times  up  and  down  the  quarter 
deck,  and  then  he  dived  into  the  cabin,  and  I  seed  no  more  on 
him  during  that  watch." 

2* 


34 

"  What  had  best  be  done,  shipmates  ?"  asked  one  of  the  group, 
after  they  had  sat  silent  for  some  moments. 

"  Why,"  answered  Dick,  who  appeared  to  have  taken  upon 
himself  the  office  of  spokesman  for  the  party  ;  "  what  I  recom 
mends  is  this  ;  there's  on'y  ten  of  them  black-a-vised  chaps — 
and  there's  twenty  of  us — I  b'lieve  them  to  be  in  the  skipper's 
and  mate's  secret  and  we  ain't  ;  they  may  look  fiercer  with  their 
niustachers  and  black  whiskers  and  beards  •  but  they  ain't  no 
stronger  nor  no  braver  men  than  we  be.  I  proposes,  as  we 
makes  up  our  minds  to  send  a  '  round  robin'  to  the  skipper, 
respectfully  axin'  to  know  what  sort  of  a  v'yage  we've  shipped 
for.  If  he  tells  us,  so,  well  ;  if  not,  we  must  think  o'  somethin' 
else — but  I  goes  dead  ag'in  sailing  in  the  dark." 

One  of  the  men  alluded  to  under  the  name  of  "  black-a-vised 
chaps"  now  carelessly  joined  the  group,  and  the  party  shortly 
broke  up  and  went  below  to  their  hammocks. 

A  fortnight  passed,  and  it  appeared  that  nothing  had  been 
determined  upon  by  the  malcontents,  since  no  "  round  robin" 
had  been  sent  to  the  captain.  A  greater  distance  than  ever 
appeared  to  be  observed  by  one  portion  of  the  crew  with  regard 
to  the  other,  and  the  symptoms  of  discontent  were  noticed  by 
the  captain  and  the  mates,  but  no  movement  towards  an  explana 
tion  was  made. 

During  this  period,  the  wind  had  come  round  farther  to  the 
westward  ;  the  ship's  yards  had  been  squared,  and  she  had 
made  extraordinary  progress  towards  her  destination,  wherever 
that  might  be.  The  wind  had  increased  to  a  gale  but  the  ship  sped 
gallantly  on  before  it,  and  made  excellent  weather,  bounding 
over1  ine  billows  like  a  duck,  without  throwing  a  drop  of  spray 
on  her  decks.  The  captain,  whose  listless  habits  had  attracted 
the  notice  of  the  crew,  now  appeared  oftener  upon  deck,  and 
sometimes,  especially  towards  nightfall,  he  carefully  scanned  the 
horizon  with  his  spy-glass.  Once  or  twice  he  remained  on  deck 
throughout  the  whole  night,  merely  taking  an  occasional  nap 
on  the  hen-coop,  wrapped  up  in  his  boat  cloak.  One  of  the 
crew  always  chosen — although  as  if  by  a  mere  chance  order — 
from  the  ten  men  already  alluded  to,  was  constantly  stationed 
at  the  topmast  head,  on  the  look-out,  and  one  morning  the  well 
known  but  always  startling  cry  of  "sail  ho  !"  was  heard. 

The  captain,  who  had  gone  down  into  the  cabin  to  breakfast, 
was  on  deck,  spy-glass  in  hand,  in  a  moment. 

"  Where  away  ?"  he  shouted  to  the  look-out. 

"  On  the  weather  bow,  sir  ?"  was  the  reply. 


THE    CABIN    BOY'S    STORY.  35 

"  What  does  she  look  like  ?" 

"I  can't  make  out  yet.  I  can  but  just  see  her  topsails — the 
canvas  looks  white  and  square.  She  may  be  a  cruiser." 

"  Mr.  Tolcroft,"  said  the  captain,  "  we  are  out  of  the  range 
of  any  regular  traders  ;  that  vessel  must  either  be  the  craft  I 
am  looking  out  for,  or  one  of  the  infernal  British  cruisers.  Any 
way,  we  had  better  get  the  weather  gage  of  her.  Brace  for'ard 
the  yards,  men,"  he  shouted  to  the  crew,  for  the  first  time  since 
the  vessel  had  sailed  from  New  York,  taking  the  direction  of 
the  vessel  into  his  own  hands. 

The  yards  were  promptly  braced  almost  sharp  up,  the  vessel 
careened  over  to  the  pressure  of  the  wind,  now  brought  abeam, 
and  the  captain  again  shouted  to  the  look-out  aloft — "  How 
does  the  strange  sail  bear  now  ?" 

"  On  the  lee  beam,"  replied  the  man. 

*'  Can  you  see  anything  more  of  her?" 

"  No,  sir  ;  her  topsails  only  are  yet  in  sight." 

"  Mr.  Tolcroft,"  said  the  captain,  "  we  will  keep  her  on  this 
course  for  a  couple  of  hours  until  we  have  worked  well  to  wind 
ward,  before  we  approach  her  any  nearer.  We  can  then  do  as 
we  please,  after  obtaining  a  closer  view."  Then  again  address 
ing  the  look-out,  he  shouted,  "  let  me  know  if  the  strange  sail 
alters  her  course,  and  also  as  soon  as  you  can  distinguish  her 
courses.  Mr.  Tolcroft,'''  he  added,  "  it  would  be  as  well 
now  to  get  up  the  guns  ;  not  however,  that  they  will  be  needed, 
because,  if  the  stranger  should  turn  out  to  be  a  cruiser,  I  mean 
to  show  her  our  heels,  and  I  should  like  to  see  one  of  the  ver 
min  that  could  touch  the  Albatross  in  a  breeze  like  this,  and 
if  she  proves  to  be  the  vessel  I  expect,  why  her  captain  «,nd  I 
will  shake  flippers  together  instead  of  fighting." 

"  Would  it  not  be  better,  Captain  Seymour,  to  speak  to  the 
men  now,  afore  I  gives  the  order  ?  The  time  must  come. 
Seems  to  me  there's  no  time  like  the  present,"  was  the  mate's 
reply. 

"Ah,  well  thought  of,  Mr.  Tolcroft.  Call  Allan  and  Fran 
cois  aft,  and  then  direct  the  boatswain  to  pipe  all  hands." 

Thus  saying,  the  captain  descended  to  his  cabin  and  armed 
himself  with  the  pistols  described  as  hanging  above  his  sleeping 
berth.  Carefully  concealing  the  weapons  in  his  bosom,  he 
re-ascended  just  as  the  men,  some  of  them  still  half  asleep,  were 
emerging  from  the  hatchways.  Allan  and  Francois  were 
standing  conversing  with  the  first  mate. 

"  By  gar  !"  sold  the  latter,  in  reply  to  some  remark  of  the 


first  mate's,  just  as  the  captain  approached,  and  loud  enough 
for  him  to  hear — "  By  gar  !  I  would  make  short  vork  of  it  ; 
they  should  not  dare  to  say  dere  soul  vas  dere  own.  Join  us 
or  walk  de  plank — " 

"  Silence,  Francois,"  interrupted  the  captain,  in  an  authori 
tative  tone.  "  Allan  once  got  me  into  a  scrape  through  such 
brutality  as  you  seem  inclined  to.  Moral  suasion  is  the  thing. 
There  are  few  cases  in  which  a  spoonful  of  oil  will  not  go 
further  than  a  quart  of  vinegar." 

By  this  time  the  men  were  assembled,  wondering,  the  greater 
part  of  them,  for  what  purpose  they  had  been  summoned,  yet 
partly  guessing  the  cause. 

"  My  lads,"  said  the  captain,  stepping  forward,  "  I  wish  to 
know  from  your  own  lips,  whether  or  not  you  have  found  your 
selves  well  treated  since  you  have  been  under  my  command  ?" 

"  Ay,  ay,  sir,"  was  the  universal  reply.  None  of  the  men 
could  have  responded  otherwise  to  this  question. 

"  Well  then,"  continued  the  captain,  "I  shall  say  but  a  few 
words  in  explanation.  I  dare  say  many  of  you,  believing  that 
you  had  shipped  on  board  a  merchant  vessel  bound  to  Califor 
nia,  have  wondered  not  only  at  the  regulations  of  my  ship,  but 
also  at  the  course  I  have  thought  proper  to  steer.  I  am  glad, 
however,  to  find  that  none  amongst  you  have  thought  it  neces 
sary  to  remonstrate.  Had  such  been  the  case,  it  might  have 
led  to  something  unpleasant  (laying  a  stress  on  the  word). 
I  am  not  in  the  habit  of  having  my  slightest  word  disobeyed, 
nor  even  disputed.  My  lads,  we  are  bound  not  to  California, 
but  to  the  coast  of  Africa — not  after  gold,  but  after  what  will 
put  gold  into  our  pockets,  faster  than  it  can  be  found  by  the 
luckiest  adventurer  in  California.  The  Albatross  is  bound  to  the 
Coast  for  the  slaves,  which  we  shall  dispose  of  in  Havana  or  in  the 
Brazils.  There  are  some  amongst  you  who  have  all  along  known 
this.  I  have  not  thought  it  necessary  to  inform  the  others  until 
now.  I  wished  first  to  see  what  you  were  made  of.  As  seamen,  I 
acknowledge  I  am  proud  of  you.  Your  conduct  hitherto  proves 
to  me  that  I  can  trust  you.  I  am  expecting  hereabouts  to 
meet  with  a  consort,  who  will  give  me  perhaps,  some  valuable 
information  respecting  the  state  of  affairs  upon  the  Coast  at 
present.  There  is  a  vessel  now  in  sight  which  may  be  the  one 
pf  which  I  am  in  search,  or  it  may  be  a  Britisher.  I  do  not 
intend  to  approach  much  nearer  till  I  am  satisfied  which  it  be.. 
Mr.  Tolcroft  is  now  about  to  rouse  up  the  guns  which  have 
hitherto  been  concealed  in  the  lower  hold.  I  have  heard  some 


37 

of  you  joking  at  the  idea  of  my  having  a  gunner  and  armorer 
on  board.  Well,  lads,  I  have  no  objections  now  and  then  to  a 
harmless  joke  ;  but  you  will  see  that  henceforward  the  gunner 
and  armorer  will  find  employment  for  themselves. 

"  Now,  men,  give  one  cheer  to  show  that  you  are  all  satis 
fied,  and  then  to  work  with  a  will,  and  bowse  up  the  guns 
from  below." 

The  men,  not  in  the  secret,  had  listened  with  amazement  ; 
but  the  confident  manner  and  tone  of  the  captain  had  pleased 
them,  and  certain  remarks  he  had  made  had  shown  them, 
intuitively,  that  he  was  not  a  man  to  be  trifled  with.  We 
have  observed  in  a  preceding  chapter,  that  the  seamen  had  all 
been  picked  out  by  the  captain,  on  account  of  their  appearance, 
and  his  belief  that  they  were  such  as  would  suit  his  purpose, 
though  he  had  confided  his  secret  but  to  a  few,  chosen  on 
account  of  the  especial  truculency  of  their  appearance,  and  the 
recommendation  of  the  shipping  master,  who  knew  them.  The 
novelty  of  the  idea  pleased  the  rest — sailors  like  novelty  ; 
besides  they  saw  at  a  glance  they  could  not  help  themselves, 
and  visions  of  gain  floated  before  their  eyes  in  the  distance. 
One  loud,  unanimous  shout  was  the  response. 

"  We  will  stick  to  you,  captain,  to  the  last,"  and  under  the 
direction  of  the  mates,  they  proceeded  to  put  the  vessel  into 
warlike  trim. 

Harry  Davis  had  heard  the  speech.  He  was  standing  by 
Frank,  who  whispered — 

"  I  guessed  this  from  the  first.  I  don't  care  ;  but  what 
would  my  mother  say,  if  she  knew  I  was  on  board  a  slaver." 

"  Good  God  1"  was  the  reply  of  Harry.  "  Is  it  possible  ! 
Captain  Seymour  the  commander  of  a  slave  ship.  Can  Mr. 
Mordant  be  aware  of  this  ?w 

"  Francois,"  said  Captain  Seymour,  as,  his  harangue  con 
cluded,  he  left  the  mates  arid  crew  to  the  execution  of  the  orders 
he  had  given,  and  returned  to  the  use  of  his  spy-glass,  as  if  he 
felt  satisfied  that  he  had  done  and  said  enough.  "  Francois, 
let  this  be  a  lesson  to  you.  I  see  you  are  inclined  to  be  im 
petuous  ;  in  nine  cases  out  of  ten,  impetuosity  is  not  only  need 
less,  but  positively  injurious.  Men  are  to  be  governed  by  firm 
ness  and  suavity  mingled.  When,  as  I  grant  sometimes  you 
may,  you  meet  with  doltheads  too  stupid  to  listen  to  reason 
and  unable  to  understand  moral  suasion,  then  hit  right  and 
left  ;  kill  and  slay  without  compunction  ;  but  such  things  should 
be  avoided  if  possible.  Just  take  a  look  through  your  glass, 


38  THE    CABIN    BOY'S    STORY. 

Mr.  Allan,"  added  he,  addressing-  the  second  mate.     "  I  fancy 
I  can  discover  the  strange  ship's  top-g'ant  sails." 

The  second  mate  did  as  he  was  requested,  and  leaving 
Captain  Seymour  and  his  crew  keeping  a  sharp  lookout  after 
the  stranger,  we  will  close  the  present  chapter,  and  beg  the 
reader  to  return  with  us  to  the  residence  of  the  owner  of  the 
Albatross  in  New  York  city. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

Showing  how  the  slave  trade  is  maintained,  and  exposing  the  heartless- 
ness  engendered  by  fashion. 

ON  the  very  day  week  after  the  Albatross  had  sailed  on  her 
voyage,  Mr.  Mordant  on  returning  home  from  his  office  in  the 
lower  part  of  the  city,  had  taken  his  dinner  as  usual  with  his 
family,  and  then,  something  contrary  to  his  usual  custom,  had 
left  the  ladies  in  the  parlor,  and  retired  to  his  study,  taking 
with  him  a  roll  of  documents,  which  he  sat  himself  down  to 
read  carefully.  There  did  not  appear,  however,  to  be  anything 
disagreeable  in  the  nature  of  these  documents  ;  for  Mr.  Mor 
dant,  on  entering  his  study,  before  he  sat  down,  had  lit  the 
globe  lamp  that  stood  upon  the  centre  table  ;  then  unlocked  the 
door  of  a  small  buffet  beneath  a  bookcase,  and  taking  therefrom 
a  decanter  of  Port  and  a  wine-glass  (Mr.  Mordant  was  a  lover 
of  Port  wine,  and  always  indulged  himself  with  a  few  glasses 
during  the  evening),  he  placed  it  on  the  table,  with  a  wine  glass, 
then  took  off  his  coat,  and  taking  a  voluminous  dressing-gown 
from  a  peg,  he  hung  up  the  coat,  and  wrapped  the  gown  around 
him  :  this  done,  he  poured  out  a  glass  of  wine,  drank  it  off, 
smacked  his  lips,  and  with  a  smile  upon  his  rather  handsome, 
benevolent  looking  face,  he  touched  the  bell  pull,  and  finally 
threw  himself  lazily  down  into  the  chair. 

A  negro  servant  answered  the  summons. 

"Ned,"  said  the  merchant,  "  bring  up  my  slippers,  and  the 
coalscuttle." 

"  Yes,  sir,"  replied  the  man,  and  leaving  the  room,  he  re 
turned  in  a  few  minutes  with  the  articles  his  master  had  called 
for. 

"  Put  some  coals  on  the  fire,  Ned  ;  and,  Ned,  I  expect  a 


39 

gentleman  to  call  upon  me  this  evening.     When  he  comes,  show 
him  up  stairs." 

"  Yes,  sir,"  again  replied  the  servant,  and  Mr.  Mordant  was 
left  to  the  perusal  of  his  papers  and  the  enjoyment  of  his  wine. 
He  took  things  very  leisurely  ;  taking  in  one  hand  his  gold 
double  eye-glass,  he  separated  the  glasses  by  touching  the 
spring,  and  applying  them  to  his  optics,  slowly  perused  paper 
after  paper. 

An  exclamation  of  satisfaction,  something  between  a  sigh 
and  a  grunt,  proceeded  from  his  lips  as  he  laid  aside  the  last  of 
the  documents,  and  then,  after  drinking  a  second  glass  of  wine, 
he  muttered  to  himself  as  he  sat  turning  the  glasses  in  his 
fingers,  and  gazing  at  the  flickering  flames  in  the  cannel  coal 
fire. 

"  Altogether  a  very  well  managed  piece  of  business — very 
— good — indeed  (these  last  words  were  uttered  slowly).  I 
shall  make  a  capital  thing  of  it,  if  Seymour  only  is  as  lucky 
this  trip  as  he  was  on  the  last.  He  may  lose  the  Albatross  dur 
ing  her  next  voyage  in  that  case.  One  voyage  has  cleared  her 
cost  and  all  the  expenses,  not  only  of  that,  but  of  the  present  one. 
Cautious,  and  a  devilish  clever  fellow  is  Seymour,  and  such  a 
gentlemanly  dog  withal  ;  brave  as  a  lion,  too  ;  perhaps  a  little — 
just  a  leetle  wild,  but  merely  the  hot  blood  of  youth  ;  it  must 
sow  its  wild  oats.  I  wonder  what  keeps  Griudley  ;  it's  past 
the  hour  on  which  he  promised  to  call." 

There  was  a  ring  at  the  bell  at  the  hall  door,  and  in  a  few 
moments  the  sound  of  footsteps  was  heard  ascending  the  stairs, 
and  there  was  a  rap  at  the  door  of  the  study. 

"  Come  in,"  said  the  merchant — the  negro  servant  entered 
and  announced  "  Mr.  Douglass." 

Mr.  Mordant  never  swore  in  the  full  acceptation  of  the  term 
— never  even  made  use  of  an  ill-sounding  word  excepting  when 
by  himself,  and  then  only  when,  unusually  elated  or  depressed  ; 
but  a  naughty  word  almost  escaped  from  his  lips  when  the 
announcement  was  made  by  the  servant  man.  (He  was  almost 
excusable  under  the  circumstances — he  had  been  on  the  tether 
hooks  of  expectation,  awaiting  the  arrival  of  Mr.  Grindley, 
and  Mr.  Douglass  was  unexpectedly  announced.)  However, 
by  a  strong  effort  he  suppressed  the  wicked  exclamation,  and 
welcomed  his  visitor  with  a  smile. 

,  "  I  am  happy  to  see  you,  Mr.  Douglass,"  said  he,  rising  from 
his  seat,  and  taking  his  unlooked-for  visitor  by  the  hand. 
"  Pray  be  seated.  Ned" — turning  to  the  servant — "place  a 


40  THE    CABIN    BOY'S    STORY. 

wine  glass  on  the  table  for  Mr.  Douglass.  Take  a  glass  of 
wine,  Mr.  Douglass — such  port  as  you  don't  often  find,  sir — 
my  own  importation,  vintage  1814. 

Mr.  Douglass  poured  out  a  glass  of  wine  and  drank  it,  and 
took  the  proffered  chair.  "  I  have  called,  knowing  your  be 
nevolence,  Mr.  Mordant,"  said  he,  "  on  an  errand  of  charity. 
Some  friends  of  mine,  and  yours  too,  who  take  a  great  interest 
in  African  emancipation,  are  stirring  themselves  to  raise  a  fund 
to  enable  a  free  negro  in  this  city  to  purchase  his  wife  and 
children  from  their  owner  in  Louisiana.  The  price  demanded 
is  $1,100,  and  we  have  already  raised  $700.  What  sum  shall 
I  put  down  opposite  your  name,  Mr.  Mordant  ?" 

"  You  may  put  me  down  for  fifty  dollars,  Mr.  Douglass.  I 
am  always  glad  to  give  my  mite  in  the  cause  of  charity." 

"  Very  handsome,  indeed,  Mr.  Mordant — very  handsome  ; 
besides,  sir,  it  is  not  only  your  donation,  liberal  as  it  is,  which 
pleases  me  ;  but  I  consider  the  example  set  to  other  wealthy 
men.  Your  subscription  will  bring  others,  and  amongst  us,  we 
shall  have  the  pleasure  of  serving  our  fellow  creatures,  the 
poor  benighted  children  of  Africa." 

"  I  am  thankful  that  I  am  in  a  situation  to  render  such  as 
sistance,"  replied  the  merchant,  who  was  evidently  impatient 
for  his  visitor  to  take  his  departure.  Perhaps  Mr.  Douglass 
noticed  this,  for  after  sitting  a  few  moments,  he  said — 

"  I  see  you  are  engaged,  Mr.  Mordant.  I  will  not  longer 
intrude  upon  your  time.  I  am  confident  that  a  gentleman  so 
extensively  engaged  in  business  as  you  are,  must  have  all  his 
time  fully  employed." 

"  I  am  rather  busy  to-night,  Mr.  Douglass,"  said  Mr.  Mor 
dant,  glancing  at  the  papers  on  the  table  ;  "  but  I  shall  be 
happy  to  see  you  at  any  time.  Drop  in,  in  a  friendly  manner, 
whenever  you  may  chance  to  be  passing  this  way."  Then 
shaking  his  visitor  by  the  hand,  he  bade  him  "  good-night," 
and  Mr.  Douglass  left  the  room,  and  was  shown  out  by  the 
servant  man.  "  A  very  obtrusive  man,  that  Douglass,"  mut 
tered  the  merchant  after  he  had  heard  the  servant  close  the 
street  door.  "  There  are  fifty  dollars  thrown  away.  Not  that 
I  care  for  the  money,  thank  heaven  !  I  can  afford  that ;  and 
after  all,  these  things  do  no  harm  ;  they  help  people  on  in  the 
world,  and  raise  them  wonderfully  in  the  estimation  of  their 
friends,  and  then  when  one  comes  to  think  of  it,  there  is 
charity,  real  charity,  in  such  donations  as  these.  Here  is  a 
poor  man  whose  family  are  separated  from  him,  and  held  in 


THE  CABIN  BOY'S  STORY.  41 

slavery — a  few  wealthy  persons  interest  themselves,  and  his 
wife  and  children  are  set  at  liberty,  and  he  is  rendered  happy. 
Now  (again  glancing  at  the  papers  on  the  table)  here  the  case 
is  altogether  different.  They  will  purchase  slaves  in  Cuba  and 
in  the  Brazils,  and  somebody  or  other  will  bring  them  from 
Africa  to  sell.  I  fit  out  a  ship  for  this  purpose  ;  take  care 
that  everything  on  board  is  adapted  for  the  comfort  of  the  poor 
wretches  on  the  voyage — and  I  dispose  of  them  at  a  great 
profit  to  myself,  and  to  all  who  are  engaged  in  the  undertaking 
with  me.  Very  probably  I  am  sowing  the  seeds  of  their  adop 
tion,  or  at  least  the  adoption  of  their  offspring  into  the 
Christian  Church,  and  fitting  them  for  future  emancipation. 
At  all  events,  Seymour  assures  me  they  are  slaves  to  greater 
tyrants  in  their  own  country  than  they  are  in  Cuba  or  any 
where  else — and,  therefore,  under  any  circumstances,  I  am 
doing  them  a  service.  Then,  it  may  be  said,  I  am  evading  the 
laws  of  my  country.  So  does  everybody  who  fetches  a  piece 
of  silk  or  a  bundle  of  lace  over  the  water.  Such  offences  are 
merely  venial.  The  guilt  only  lies  in  their  discovery,  and  that 
I  have  taken  every  precaution  against." 

Mr.  Mordant  was  interrupted  in  his  speciously  argumentative 
soliloquy  by  a  second  ring  at  the  door-bell,  and  in  a  few  seconds 
more  Mr.  Grindley  was  shown  into  the  study. 

"  Good  evening,  Mr.  Grindley,"  said  the  merchant,  rising 
from  his  seat,  and  cordially  shaking  the  hand  of  his  visitor.  "I 
have  been  expecting  you  for  some  time  ;  I  wish  you  to  go  over 
these  writings  with  me  to-night,  to  see  that  they  are  all  correct, 
in  order  that  you  may  make  no  mistake  in  the  entries  at  the 
Custom  House.  You  are  sure  these  are  duplicates  ?" 

"  I  copied  them  myself,  Mr.  Mordant,  and  will  take  my  oath 
of  their  correctness." 

"  I  am  satisfied,  Mr.  Grindley,  and  your  services  shall  be  well 
rewarded.  There  were  no  suspicions  about  the  non-insurance  ?" 

"  The  matter  was  spoken  of,"  replied  Grindley,  who  as  the 
reader  will  perceive  was  a  clever  and  cunning,  though  pliant 
tool  in  the  merchant's  hands — and  who  was  generally  supposed 
to  be  merely  a  clerk  in  Mr.  Mordant's  employ.  "  The  matter 
was  spoken  of,  but  I  effectually  silenced  any  unpleasant  remarks 
that  might  have  been  made,  by  observing  that  you  had  so  much 
merchandise  embarked — in  so  many  and  such  varied  channels — 
that  you  found  it  cheaper  to  risk  an  occasional  loss  than  to  pay 
the  immense  sura  that  the  insurance  companies  would  annually 
draw  from  you." 


42  THE    CABIN    BOY'S    STORY. 

"  Quite  right,  Mr.  Grindley,  quite  right ;  but  how  will  that 
apply  with  regard  to  the  Stormy  Petrel,  which  will  sail  for  Cal 
cutta  on  the  first  of  next  month.  She  must  be  insured,  you 
know." 

"  Oh,  we  must  make  her  an  especial  case.  Such  a  valuable 
cargo  on  board,  you  see  ;  insured  by  other  merchants  in  different 
offices,  and  so  much  of  your  own  merchandise  on  board  besides, 
that  in  this  case  you  think  it  really  advisable  to  insure." 

"  You  are  a  sharp  fellow,  Grindley,"  said  the  merchant,  laugh 
ing.  "Let  me  see — I  promised  you  $1000  if  the  Albatross 
caine  cleverly  through  her  former  voyage,  and  $1000  more  if 
you  succeeded  in  getting  her  clear  off  to  sea  on  the  present  occa 
sion.  In  both  cases  you  have  succeeded  admirably.  Here  is  a 
check  for  the  amount,  I  brought  it  with  me  from  town  to-day" 
(handing  Grindley  a  paper). 

"  Thank  you,  sir,"  replied  Grindley,  "you  will  always  find  me 
ready  and  I  trust  able  to  serve  you." 

"  Help  yourself  to  some  wine,  Grindley,"  said  the  merchant. 

"  By  the  by/'  said  Grindley,  after  helping  himself  to  a  glass 
of  wine  ;  "  did  you  hear  of  the  discovery  of  the  body  of  a  female 
found  floating  in  the  river,  near  Hoboken,  yesterday  ?" 

"  I  saw  a  paragraph  to  that  effect  in  the  morning  papers,  but 
these  things  are  of  such  common  occurrence,  I  took  no  heed  of 
it"- — answered  the  merchant. 

"The  body  appeared  as  though  it  had  been  about  a  fortnight 
in  the  water,"  continued  Grindley;  "  it  was  a  silly  thing  in  me, 
perhaps  !  but  I  couldn't  help  thinking  it  might  have  been  the 
body  of  the  young  lady,  Miss  Miller — who  has  been  unaccount 
ably  absent  from  her  home  about  that  time." 

"  Oh  no — impossible  !  impossible,"  exclaimed  Mr.  Mordant. 
"  Miss  Miller  is  distantly  related  to  our  family.  I  would  not 
have  such  a  report  get  abroad  for  anything,  Mr.  Grindley." 

"  Then  of  course,  sir,  it  shall  go  no  further — but  pardon  me. 
Have  you  any  idea  whether  Captain  Seymour  knew  anything 
of  Miss  Miller's  abduction,  or  elopement,  or  disappearance  in 
some  way  or  other  ?  They  were  said  to  have  been  very  inti 
mate,  and  he  was  in  her  company — near  the  spot  where  this 
body  was  found — not  many  days  before  she  was  missing." 

"  Mr.  Grindley,"  said  the  merchant,  "  the  subject  of  Miss 
Miller's  disappearance  is  a  painful  one  to  me.  I  beg  that  you 
will  not  again  allude  to  it  in  my  presence,  nor  say  anything  to 
any  one  about  the  inquest  held  on  the  unfortunate  female's 
body  yesterday,  in  connection  with  Miss  Miller's  name.  Rest 


THE    CABIN    BOY'S    STORY.  43 

assured,  however,  that  Captain  Seymour  knew  nothing  of  Miss 
Miller,  further  than  as  a  friend  whom  he  met  at  my  house,  and 
to  whom  he  paid  the  compliment  of  two  or  three  calls  at  the 
house  of  her  mother." 

"  I  am  aware,"  answered  Grindley,  "  that  the  subject  must 
be  a  painful  one.  It  was  mere  thoughtlessness  on  my  part  that 
induced  me  to  mention  the  matter.  Of  course,  at  your  request, 
I  shall  be  silent  upon  it  in  future." 

"  You  will  find  your  account  in  following  my  wishes,  in  that 
regard,  Mr.  Grindley,"  returned  the  merchant,  "  and  now  I 
will  wish  you  good  night.  Mrs.  Mordant  and  my  daughters 
will  be  getting  anxious  for  my  appearance  in  the  parlor." 

"  Good  night,  sir,  and  success  to  the  second  trip  of  the  Alba 
tross,  and  to  her  gallant  commander,  Captain  Seymour,"  replied 
Grindley. 

"  I  thank  you,  Mr.  Grindley,"  answered  the  merchant,  as  his 
visitor  descended  the  stairs.  Mr.  Mordant  sat  for  some  time, 
silently  and  thoughtfully  gazing  upon  the  fire.  There  was  a 
gloom  upon  his  brow,  which  but  little  comported  with  his  late 
hilarity.  At  length  he  rose,  looked  most  timidly  around  him, 
and  shuddered  slightly,  as  exclaiming — 

"No,  no — that  could  not  be — I  will  not  believe  it,"  he 
descended  'the  stairs  himself,  and  joined  the  party  in  the 
parlor. 

It  comprised  on  this  evening  only  his  own  family,  consisting 
of  his  wife,  the  two  daughters  already  introduced  to  the  reader, 
and  his  son  Charles,  a  young  man  of  about  twenty-five  years  of 
age,  who  was  nominally  studying  for  the  bar,  in  Boston,  but  who 
had,  for  a  month  or  two  past,  been  on  a  visit  to  his  father  and 
mother. 

This  youth  was  living  a  gay  life  upon  the  liberal  allowance 
he  received  from  his  father,  and  the  credit  he  could  readily 
obtain  on  the  security  of  his  future  expectations.  Charles 
Mordant  rather  liked  to  be  thought  what  is  vulgarly  called  a 
"fast  man,"  and,  therefore,  he  spent  more  money  than  was 
convenient  to  himself,  and  indulged  in  vices  and  debaucheries 
that  were  injurious  to  his  health,  not  so  much  because  he  took 
pleasure  in  them  as  to  distinguish  himself  from  "  slow  men," 
whom  he,  in  common  with  his  companions,  held  in  scorn  and 
contempt. 

He  had  visited  his  family  with  the  object  of  persuading  his 
mother  to  induce  his  father  to  foot  some  pretty  heavy  bills 
he  had  incurred  in  Boston,  and  on  this  evening  he  had  succeeded 


44  THE    CABIN    BOY'S    STORY. 

in  obtaining  her  promise  to  enlist  herself  on  his  side.  The  old 
lady  doted  on  her  son,  and  he  had  persuaded  her  that  his  allow 
ance  was  quite  inadequate  to  his  position  in  life. 

His  private  tete-a-tete  with  his  mother  had  been  interrupted 
by  his  father's  entrance.  A  short  silence  ensued,  and  then 
Sarah,  the  eldest  sister,  by  way  of  starting  a  new  subject  of 
conversation,  alluded  to  the  mention  in  the  morning  papers  of 
the  discovery  of  the  drowned  body  of  a  female  in  the  river 
between  Jersey  City  and  Hoboken. 

"  Did  you  see  the  report  in  the  paper,  Charles  ?"  she  asked 
of  her  brother. 

A  slight  shudder  passed  over  the  frame  of  the  young  man, 
and  his  face  turned  pale,  as  he  replied: — 

"  I  glanced  at  the  paragraph;  but  I  never  read  such  things 
— they  depress  iny  spirits  and  make  me  nervous." 

"Why,  Charles,"  retorted  his  sister,  "one  would  think  the 
ghost  of  the  woman  had  passed  before  your  mental  vision. 
My  brother  Charles  frightened  by  a  newspaper  paragraph! 
Ha,  ha,  ha!" 

"  What  a  very  shocking  thing  it  is  when  viewed  in  connection 
with  the  singular  disappearance  of  Jane  Miller/'  said  Mary 
Mordant,  taking  up  the  subject  of  conversation. 

"  Very  shocking,  indeed;  if  the  body  found  in  the  river  was 
really  hers,"  said  Charles,  speaking  in  a  tone  of  forced  calmness: 
"  but  such  things  happen  every  day." 

"  Yes,  but  not  in  our  circle,"  interrupted  the  eldest  sister. 
"  It's  so  much  more  dreadful  when  these  things  occur  in  our 
set." 

"Jane  Miller  was  hardly  entitled  to  that  distinction,"  said 
Mary.  "  You  know  the  Millers  are  so  dreadfully  poor." 

"  But,  unfortunately,  Mrs.  Miller  happens  to  be  one  of  those 
terrible  bores  called  '  poor  relations,'  whom  one  can  never  get 
rid  of,"  replied  Sarah  Mordant. 

"  I  do  desire  that  the  unfortunate  occurrence  may  never  be 
alluded  to  in  my  presence,"  suddenly  interposed  Mr.  Mordant, 
who  had  apparently,  for  some  minutes  past,  with  difficulty  res 
trained  himself  from  interrupting  the  conversation.  "  Jane  Miller 
has  disgraced  herself — let  us  forget  her,  otherwise  we  may  share 
in  the  disgrace." 

"By  all  means,  my  dear  papa,"  exclaimed  Sarah.  "I  assure 
you  I  never  had  any  great  store  of  love  for  Jane  Miller — the 
forward,  conceited  thing!  She — so  poor  as  she  was,  to  think 
herself  pretty  I  and  give  herself  such  airs  in  company." 


45 

"And  then,  how  dowdily  she  always  dressed,"  said  Mary; 
"  I'm  sure  the  silk  dress  she  used  to  wear  at  our  parties,  to 
which  ma  would  invite  her,  was  quite  shabby.  I  was  really 
ashamed  to  acknowledge  her  ;  and — that  reminds  me,  pa,"  she 
continued,  running  to  the  old  gentleman  and  kissing  him,  "  that 
you  promised  to  buy  me  a  mantilla  as  soon  as  the  latest 
fashion  from  Paris  came  out  at  Madame  De  La  Tour's.  They 
came  out  yesterday.  Now,  pa,  you  must  keep  your  promise — 
musn't  he,  Sarah  ?" 

"  To  be  sure,  and  so  he  will,"  said  Sarah,  in  her  turn  drawing 
near  to  her  father,  throwing  her  arms  around  his  neck,  and 
kissing  his  forehead. 

"You  are  a  couple  of  coaxing  minxes,"  said  the  merchant, 
gently  disengaging  himself  from  his  daughters'  embrace;  "but 
your  old  father  will  be  as  good  as  his  word,  only  let  me  never 
hear  Jane  Miller's  name  mentioned  by  either  of  you." 

So  saying,  he  placed  a  roll  of  bills  in  the  hands  of  his  eldest 
daughter,  adding,  laughingly,  "Deal  fairly  with  your  sister 
Mary,  Sarah." 

The  two  girls  skipped  playfully  away  from  his  side,  and 
resumed  the  seats  they  had  occupied  at  the  table  when  the  old 
gentleman  had  entered  the  room. 

Charles  looked  wistfully  at  the  bills;  but,  at  a  sign  from  his 
mother,  he  thought  it  advisable  to  keep  silent  on  the  subject  of 
money  until  she  had  prepared  the  way  with  his  father,  and  the 
remainder  of  the  evening  was  spent  in  general  conversation. 

Some  few  weeks  after  this,  the  merchant  received  a  letter 
from  a  correspondent  on  the  coast  of  Africa,  which  occasioned 
him  much  unexpected  annoyance;  but  we  must  reserve  the 
details  to  a  future  chapter. 


CHAPTER  V. 

The  origin  of  the  Cabin  boy,  and  a  brief  history  of  his  family — leaving 
more  to  be  explained  hereafter. 

IN  a  neat  little  cottage  on  the  coast  of  Maine,  near  Camden, 
Penobscot  Bay,  there  resided,  some  few  years  prior  to  the  date 
of  the  commencement  of  our  story,  a  widow  lady  named  Martin. 
Her  husband  had  been  an  officer  in  the  United  States  army  ; 
but,  for  many  years  before  his  death,  he  had  retired  from  the 
service,  in  consequence  of  ill  health  and  infirmity  superinduced 


46  THE    CABIN    BOY'S    STORY. 

by  the  fatigues  he  had  gone  through  during  the  campaign  of 
1812-14  in  the  course  of  which  he  had  been  twice  severely 
wounded.  At  the  close  of  the  war  he  had  retired  to  a  small 
property  in  the  locality  we  have  mentioned,  which  he  had  in 
herited  from  his  father.  Here  his  health  had  rapidly  improved, 
and  although  already  past  the  middle  age,  he  had,  to  the  sur 
prise  of  every  one,  for  he  was  considered  to  be  a  confirmed  old 
bachelor,  taken  unto  himself  a  wife,  several  years  younger  than 
her  husband,  who  bore  him  three  children,  William  and  Frank 
and  Sarah,  the  second  of  whom  has  already  been  introduced  to 
the  reader  on  board  the  Albatross. 

Lieutenant  Martin,  however,  did  not  live  long  after  the  birth 
of  his  daughter,  and  at  the  period  of  his  death,  the  eldest  boy, 
William,  had  but  just  attained  his  tenth  year. 

Frank  was  three  years  younger,  and  little  Sarah  was  only 
two  years  of  age. 

Mrs.  Martin  was  left  by  her  husband  in  rather  straitened 
circumstances,  although  in  the  distant  part  of  the  country 
where  she  resided  and  where  living  was  much  more  moderate 
than  in  the  cities,  she  had  sufficient,  with  the  practice  of  eco 
nomy,  to  support  her  family  in  comfort. 

It  was  a  wild  romantic  spot  where  the  cottage  was  situated, 
overlooking  as  it  did,  the  rude  and  stormy  bay.  Yet  it  was 
not  devoid  of  natural  beauties.  In  summer  it  would  have  been 
considered  a  pleasant  spot  by  the  tourist,  if  ever  any  summer 
tourist  had  thought  of  venturing  so  far  in  search  of  health  or 
pleasure — for  the  cottage  stood  in  an  ornamental  enclosure, 
plentifully  supplied  with  evergreens  and  such  hardy  shrubs  and 
trees  as  would  withstand  the  rigors  and  exposures  of  the 
winters  of  that  latitude,  while  the  wide  parterres  of  flowers, 
which  bloomed  and  blossomed  in  profusion,  enchanted  the  eye 
with  their  gorgeous  colors  and  loaded  the  surrounding  atmos 
phere  with  their  perfume — the  smooth  green-sward  in  front  of 
the  house — the  neat  gravel  walks  edged  with  box  bush — the 
pretty  secluded  cottage  almost  hidden  amidst  the  woodbine  and 
sweetbriar  bushes,  which  clambered  over  the  walls  and  roof, 
and  clustered  around  the  windows,  showed  a  marked  and  agree 
able  contrast  with  the  dark  rugged  cliffs  which  formed  the  back 
ground  of  the  landscape,  for  the  cottage  stood  in  a  dell  or 
ravine,  apparently  created  by  some  sudden  convulsion  of  nature 
at  a  remote  period,  which  seemed  to  have  severed  the  huge  cliff 
that  towered  above  and  around,  and  opened  an  agreeable 
valley,  in  which  the  verdure  that  was  denied  to  the  surround- 


THE  CABIN  BOY'S  STORY.  47 

ing  exposed  lands,  grew  and  flourished  in  perfection,  all  the 
more  grateful  to  the  eye,  in  consequence  of  the  barren,  bleak 
aspect  of  the  mountain  scenery.  On  both  sides  and  in  the  rear 
the  cottage  was  sheltered  from  the  winds  by  tall  over-hanging 
cliffs,  which,  in  summer  time  were  clothed  in  a  scanty  garb  of 
brownish  moss  of  a  neutral  tint,  which  well  set  off,  in  a  sort  of 
frame-work,  the  fresh  verdure  of  the  valley.  In  front  were  the 
waters  of  the  bay,  above  which  the  cottage  stood  at  an  eleva 
tion  of  some  three  hundred  feet  ;  this  in  summer  was  an  addi 
tional  attraction,  but  in  winter  it  looked  bleak  and  cheerless — 
although  a  jut  of  land  stretching  for  a  mile  into  the  bay  on  the 
southern  side  of  the  valley,  protected  it  in  a  great  measure, 
from  the  rude  breezes  of  the  open  ocean.  A  winding  descent 
led  from  the  eminence  on  which  the  cottage  was  located  to  the 
sea  beach,  which  formed  a  narrow  rim  at  the  foot  of  the  cliff, 
the  sea,  at  high  water  rushing  up  to  its  base,  in  which  it  had 
worked  several  dark,  .gloomy  caverns,  wherein  numerous  sea 
birds  had  taken  up  their  abode. 

Such  was  the  appearance  of  the  home  of  Frank  Martin,  and 
it  is  not  be  wondered  at,  that  with  these  associations  around 
them  from  their  earliest  childhood,  the  two  sons  of  the  widow 
should,  at  an  early  period,  have  shown  a  strong  predilection  for 
a  sea  life.  Their  hours  of  leisure  were  spent  in  playing  upon 
the  sea-shore,  sailing  mimic  ships  in  the  pools  left  on  the  beach 
by  the  receding  waves — paddling  amongst  the  slimy  rocks,  and 
gathering  seaweed — or  scaling  the  cliffs  and  penetrating  into 
the  dark,  gloomy  caverns  in  search  of  the  eggs  of  sea-birds  ; 
and  from  the  period  they  first  began  to  lisp,  they  expressed  a 
wish  to  become  sailors.  Until  the  death  of  Lieutenant  Martin, 
the  boys  being  mere  children,  these  expressions  were  laughed 
at  by  their  parents,  but  when  the  widow  was  left  the  sole  pro 
tector  of  her  family,  she  sought,  by  every  means  in  her  power, 
to  disuade  her  children  from  thinking  of  a  sea  life,  and  en 
deavored  to  turn  their  inclinations  into  some  other  channel. 
With  William  she  succeeded.  He  was  of  a  more  sober,  sedate 
disposition  than  his  younger  brother,  generally  not  so  much 
liked  by  his  boyish  companions,  for  he  was  fond  of  making 
shrewd  bargains  with  them,  and  always  managing  to  gain  the 
upper  hand  ;  but  he  was  a  much  greater  favorite  with  the 
schoolmaster  at  Camden,  who  praised  him  highly  for  his  dili 
gent  attention  to  his  studies,  and  his  serious  behavior  in 
school  hours,  while  Frank  was  a  young  scapegrace,  generally 
at  the  bottom  of  his  class,  except  when  he  chose  to  exert  him- 


48 

self  to  learn  some  favorite  lesson,  when  his  natural  aptitude 
enabled  him  to  master  it  in  advance  of  most  of  his  class-fellows. 
Frank  was,  however,  the  idol  of  his  school-fellows  and  playmates, 
and  if  the  widow  entertained  any  partiality  towards  either  of 
her  sons,  it  was  towards  her  second  son,  Frank,  although  she 
always  said,  and  always  tried  to  persuade  herself,  that  her 
sedate  son  William  was  the  better  behaved  and  more  affection 
ate  lad  of  the  two. 

At  the  age  of  fifteen,  William  Martin  had,  through  the  kind 
influence  of  a  friend  of  the  widow's  late  husband,  been  taken 
into  the  office  of  a  lawyer  at  Augusta,  where,  at  the  date  on 
which  our  story  commences,  he  had  resided  four  years.  Frank, 
as  soon  as  his  brother  had  gone  forth  from  his  mother's  roof,  to 
make  his  own  way  in  the  world,  began  to  urge  the  widow  to  con 
sent  to  his  wishes  and  give  him  her  permission  to  go  to  sea — 
although  at  this  time  he  was  but  thirteen  years  of  age.  This 
the  widow  would  not  consent  to,  and  his  sister  Sarah  also 
added  her  persuasions  to  her  mother's,  for  truly  the  widow  had 
reason  to  dread  the  vicissitudes  of  the  treacherous  element  ; 
she  was  the  daughter  of  a  sea  captain,  who  had  perished  at  sea 
while  engaged  on  a  whaling  voyage  from  Nantucket.  She 
thought  that  there  was  a  fatality  attending  those  of  her  family 
who  ventured  upon  a  sea  life — and  hence  shrunk  with  dread  from 
the  idea  of  either  of  her  own  children  becoming  sailors  ;  but  all 
was  of  no  avail — a  sailor  Frank  Martin  was  resolved  upon  being 
— and  although  he  did  not  plead  any  longer  with  his  mother, 
after  once  or  twice  seeing  her  weep  when  he  had  pressed  the 
subject  with  unusual  warmth,  for  Frank  was  an  affectionate  boy 
— for  all  his  high  spirits  and  mischievous  pranks — he  secretly 
resolved  that  the  sea  should  be  his  chosen  profession  at  last, 
even  if  he  had  to  wait  for  years  to  attain  his  object, 
and  commence  his  initiation  in  the  duty  of  gaining  his 
own  living  in  some  other,  and,  to  him,  less  congenial  em 
ployment.  One  thing,  however,  he  determined  upon,  without 
his  mother's  consent,  he  would  not,  while  she  lived,  act  against 
her  wishes.  He  trusted  to  time  to  work  a  change  in  her  ideas. 
Meanwhile  he  attended  school  regularly,  and  spent  his  leisure 
time  as  usual  upon  the  beach  or  on  the  cliffs,  where,  on  a  fine 
day,  he  would  stroll  for  hours,  looking  longingly  upon  the  vast 
sluggish  waters  in  the  calm,  or  in  imagination  bounding  in  some 
gallant  ship  over  the  swelling  billows  as  they  danced  and 
sparkled,  and  foamed  whilst  borne  onward  by  the  breeze. 

We  have  as  yet  said  little  of  Sarah  Martin,  but  it  is  at  least 


THE  CABIN  BOY'S  STORY.  49 

necessary  that  we  give  a  partial  description  of  this,  the  young 
est  of  the  Widow  Martin's  family,  since  all  the  personages 
therein  comprised  will  play  their  part  individually  in  the  due 
course  of  our  narrative. 

Sarah  Martin,  at  this  period,  was  only  eight  years  of  age ; 
yet  she  already  gave  promises  of  exceeding  loveliness.  Hers 
was  not,  however,  beauty  of  the  showy,  dashing  description, 
calculated  to  make  an  instant  impression  on  a  heart  sensitive 
to  the  influence  of  feminine  attractions,  often  proving  as  evan 
escent  as  it  is  sudden  and  lively  at  the  moment ;  beauty,  but  of  that 
gentle,  timid,  retiring  character,  which  gradually  but  surely  winds 
its  coils  around  the  heart  of  the  incautious  beholder,  and  from 
which  there  is  no  escape — which  only  entangles  him  who  strug 
gles  to  get  free  still  more  deeply  in  its  meshes.  At  this  period 
Sarah  was  a  lovely  little  girl,  with  large  soft  eyes,  of  a  color 
which  partook  alike  of  a  shade  of  blue  and  gray,  with  long  silk 
en  eyelashes,  which  drooped  gracefully  over  the  lids  when  half 
closed,  and  dark,  arched  eyebrows,  soft  and  silky  as  if  drawn 
with  a  limner's  pencil.  Her  hair  was  of  a  rich  brown  auburn, 
and  fell  in  natural  ringlets  over  her  shoulders,  forming  a  rich 
setting  for  her  oval  face,  and  pretty,  regular,  delicate  features. 
She  was  very  fond  of  her  brother  Frank,  and  as  we  have  stat 
ed,  would  join  her  childish  persuasions  to  those  of  her  mother, 
and  entreat  him  not  to  go  to  sea  and  be  drowned,  as  she  was 
sure  he  would  be,  if  he  ventured  upon  the  treacherous  element. 

About  six  months  after  William  Martin  had  gone  to  live  in 
Augusta,  he  sent  a  few  presents  to  his  mother  and  brother  and 
sister,  not  of  great  value  in  themselves,  but  as  a  proof  of  his 
remembrance  of  them,  and  his  wish  that  they  should  share  in 
the  benefits  derived  from  a  gift  bestowed  upon  him  by  his  em 
ployer,  as  a  proof  of  his  satisfaction  with  his  conduct. 

Frank's  share  of  his  brother's  generosity,  consisted  of  two 
books,  which  William  had  evidently  chosen  with  a  just  appre 
ciation  of  his  younger  brother's  tastes — the  volumes  consisted 
of  Robinson  Crusoe  and  Capt.  Cook's  voyages.  Nothing  could 
have  been  more  acceptable  to  Frank,  who  greedily  perused  their 
contents,  and  wished  he  had  lived  in  former  years,  and  had  had 
the  good  fortune  to  share  the  exploits  and  dangers  and  triumphs 
of  the  gallant  and  adventurous  Cook  and  his  companions  ;  but 
Robinson  Crusoe  opened  to  his  imagination  a  fairy  world  of 
delight.  It  was  read  and  re-read,  each  time  with  increasing 
satisfaction.  Every  word  was  believed  by  the  enthusiastic  boy 


50  THE  CABIN  BOY'S  STORY. 

to  be  strictly  true,  and  Robinson  Crusoe  was  envied  as  having 
been  the  happiest  of  mankind. 

"  Oh,"  sighed  Frank,  "  Oh  I  that  I  could  only  be  castaway 
upon  some  desert  Island,  without  food  or  clothing,  and  amongst 
lots  of  savage  cannibals.  How  happy  I  should  be,  and  then  if 
I  could  but  get  a  Man  Friday  to  help  me  to  build  a  hut ;  and 
a  parrot  to  call  out,  '  Frank  Martin  !  poor  Frank  Martin  !'  and 
a  cat  to  follow  me  about  ;  and  a  goat-skin  dress  to  wear.  Oh, 
wouldn't  it  be  jolly." 

'  From  much  musing  upon  this  subject,  Frank  began  to  con 
ceive  a  plan  of  establishing  a  sort  of  Crusoe's  dominion  upon  a 
rugged  promontory,  which  extended  from  the  lower  section  of 
the  cliff  beneath  his  mother's  dwelling,  and  which  was  only  acces 
sible  at  low  water,  by  scrambling  over  slimy  and  jagged  rocks. 
Out  of  an  old  buffalo  robe  which  he  managed  to  purloin  from 
the  house,  he  manufactured  a  mock  goatskin  cap  and  coat,  and 
his  mother's  tortoise  shell  cat  supplied  that  important  addition 
to  Crusoe's  household.  A  natural  cave  at  one  end  of  the  pro 
montory  served  for  a  ready-made  habitation,  as  perfect  as  any 
Crusoe  amateur  could  reasonably  desire,  and  a  parrot  he  had 
ready  to  hand,  for  the  widow  had  a  favorite  parrot,  which 
greatly  to  the  wonder  and  distress  of  the  lady,  shared  in  the 
mysterious  disappearance  of  the  cat,  and  though  it  could  not 
say,  "  Frank  Martin  !  oh,  poor  Frank  Martin  !"  it  could  and 
did  screech,  without  ceasing,  "  What's  o'clock,  pretty  Polly  ? 
Poll,  what's  o'clock  ?"  and  that  temporarily  answered  the  pur 
pose.  A  Man  Friday  was  a  much  more  serious  affair  to  be 
got  over  ;  but  it  was  managed  at  last — all  things  can  be 
managed  by  those  who  will — though  the  Man  Friday  was  not 
a  human  subject  of  the  amateur  Crusoe.  Frank  pondered  long 
upon  this  difficulty  ;  his  object  was  to  do  the  thing  properly ; 
and  therefore  it  was  necessary  that  he  should  rescue  his  Man 
Friday  from  his  pursuers,  and  that  he  should  do  it  on  a  Friday, 
too — or  else,  how  could  the  name  be  appropriate  ?  Fortun 
ately  for  the  success  of  his  scheme,  one  Friday  just  as  he  had 
stolen  secretly  over  to  his  cave  to  revel  in  his  fancies  for  a  few 
hours,  he  was  startled  by  the  sound  of  a  barrel  organ — rather 
an  unusual  sound  in  those  parts — and  notwithstanding  Frank 
was  attired  in  his  buffalo,  cap  and  all,  he  could  not  resist  the 
curiosity  that  impelled  him  to  find  out  whence  the  sound  pro 
ceeded.  He  recrossed  from  the  promontory,  and  peering  round 
a  projecting  corner  of  the  cliff,  espied  two  Italian  organ  boys, 


THE  CABIN  BOYS  STORY.  51 

who  were  wending  their  way  to  Camden  from  the  village  of 
Lincolnville.  Forgetting  in  his  curiosity  the  oddity  of  his 
attire,  he  emerged  from  his  hiding  place — the  boys  saw  his 
strange  figure,  and  screaming  with  affright,  taking  him  to  be 
some  strange  and  savage  brute,  they  started  to  run  with  all 
haste  along  the  pathway,  while  a  monkey  that  was  seated  on 
the  organ  broke  loose  from  them,  and  also  impelled  by  fear, 
rushed  down  the  cliff  to  the  beach,  and  across  the  bridge  of 
rocks  which  led  to  Frank's  imaginary  domain. 

It  was  a  Godsend  to  Frank — a  Man  Friday  was  on  the  very 
day  of  the  week  presented  to  his  hand,  actually  flying  from  his 
captors  and  taking  refuge  in  his  cave,  for  in  that  recess,  the 
poor  frightened  brute  secreted  itself,  and  was  then  easily  cap 
tured  by  Frank — and  therefrom  retained  a  prisoner  until  it 
began  to  know  and  be  attached  to  its  master.  The  Italian 
boys  grieved  over  the  loss  of  their  monkey,  which  they  believed 
had  fallen  a  prey  to  some  monster  which  had  suddenly  sprung 
up  from  the  deep  ;  but  they  never  sought  to  recover  it,  being- 
glad  to  make  their  own  escape.  Frank  now  had  everything 
complete — and  spent  most  of  his  leisure  time  in  his  cave,  still 
poring  over,  and  gathering  fresh  ideas  with  regard  to  his 
pursuits  from  his  favorite  volume.  His  mother  and  sister  often 
remonstrated  with  him  on  account  of  his  absenting  himself  so 
much  from  the  cottage  ;  but  he  always  excused  himself,  by 
saying  that  he  had  been  strolling  along  the  cliff,  and  thus  care 
fully  kept  his  secret. 

One  day,  however,  a  cousin  of  the  widow's — who  was  a 
sea  captain,  paid  her  a  visit.  He  asked  after  her  son  Frank — 
Mrs.  Martin  replied  that  she  supposed*  he  was  strolling  upon 
the  cliffs,  to  which  amusement  he  showed  a  great  partiality. 

"  Then,"  said  the  captain,  "  I  will  take  a  stroll  out,  and 
look  about  me,  and  perhaps  I  may  fall  in  with  the  boy." 

Thus  saying,  he  took  his  hat  and  walked  leisurely  along  the 
cliff.  He  saw  nothing,  however,  of  Frank,  and  -was  on  the 
point  of  returning  to  the  cottage,  for  it  was  growing  dusk, 
when  turning  a  point,  his  attention  was  arrested  by  a  human 
figure  beneath  him,  apparently  struggling  with  the  tide.  It 
was  Frank — who  was  also  thinking  of  returning  home,  and  who 
having  waited  until  the  water  had  nearly  covered  the  bridge  of 
rocks  which  formed  the  road  to  his  domain,  had  stripped  him 
self  in  order  to  cross  without  wetting  his  clothes,  which  he  had 
tied  up  in  a  bundle  and  was  carrying  on  his  head.  The  cap 
tain  gained  the  beach  as  quietly  as  possible,  in  the  hope  of 


52  THE    CABIN    BOY'S    STORY. 

rescuing  what  he  believed  to  be  a  lad  struggling  for  life  amidst 
the  rocks,  for  he  had  no  idea  any  one  could  have  voluntarily 
placed  himself  in  such  a  position,  and  he  just  arrived  in  time 
to  see  his  young  cousin  land  on  the  beach. 

"  Why,  Frank  1"  cried  he,  in  amazement,  "  what  on  earth 
have  you  been  doing  out  on  that  jut  of  rock  ?" 

"  Nothing,  Captain  Dobson,"  replied  Frank — to  whom  the 
captain  was  well  known,  and  with  whom  he  was  a  great 
favorite — "  please  wait  till  I  put  on  my  clothes,  and  I  will  go 
home  with  you  j  but  don't  say  anything  to  mother  or  to 
Sarah." 

"  And  why  not,  Frank  ?" 

" Because — because,"  repeated  Frank — "I  often  go  there — 
and  I  don't  want  them  to  know." 

"  Why,  what  attraction  is  there,  Frank  ?  I  shall  step 
across  myself,  at  low  tide  to-morrow,  and  see." 

"  Please  don't,"  implored  Frank. 

The  captain  laughed.     "  Then  tell  me  your  secret,"  said  he. 

"  Will  you  keep  it?" 

"That  depends  on  circumstances.  At  all  events,  if  there  is 
no  danger  to  yourself  in  it,  I  shall  not  say  anything  to  annoy 
you." 

"Then  I  will  tell  you,"  said  the  boy,  after  musing  for  some 
time,  and  he  told  his  good  natured  cousin  of  his  scheme. 

"  Upon  my  word,"  said  the  captain,  laughing  as  he  listened 
to  the  explanation.  "  I  must  visit  this  Robinson  Crusoe's 
cave  of  yours,  Frank — I  will  go  with  you  to  your  domain  to 
morrow." 

"  You  won't  say  anything  about  it  to  mother  to-night  ?" 

"  No,  make  yourself  easy  on  that  score" — and  thus  chatting 
together,  the  captain  and  his  young  cousin  wended  their  way 
along  the  cliff  to  the  widow's  cottage. 

On  the  morrow  Frank  showed  his  cousin  the  mysteries  of 
the  promontory  and  the  natural  cave. 

"  And  you  have  stolen  the  parrot  that  I  brought  your 
mother  from  the  West  Indies,  the  strange  loss  of  which- she 
has  been  lamenting  to  me.  Oh,  Frank,  you  should  not  have 
taken  the  parrot  without  your  mother's  leave,  and  the  old 
tortoise  shell  cat.  I  declare  !  and  what  the  d — 1  this  ?  a 
monkey,  by  all  that's  wonderful. 

"  Why,  what  do  you  do  with  a  monkey,  Frank  ?" 

"  That's  my  Man  Friday,"  replied  Frank,  gravely,  and  he 
proceeded  to  tell  his  cousin  how  he  had  got  possession  of  it. 


53 

"  Why,  you  are  a  most  romantic  youth,"  said  the  captain, 
after  having  given  way  to  a  burst  of  laughter,  "  but  I  must 
tell  your  mother  where  her  parrot  is  secreted.  What  put  such 
a  fancy  as  this  into  your  head  ?" 

"  I  wish  to  be  a  sailor,"  replied  the  boy,  "  and  mother  won't 
let  me  ;  but  I  never  will  be  anything  else." 

The  captain  was  silent  for  some  minutes ;  at  length  he  said — 

"  Frank,  I  shall  tell  your  mother  what  I  have  discovered,  for 
I  don't  think  it  safe  for  you  to  visit  this  place.  Some  day  you 
will  be  carried  away  by  the  tide  in  attempting  to  cross  ;  but 
as  a  recompense  for  breaking  up  your  favorite  amusement,  I 
will  endeavor  to  persuade  your  mother  to  let  you  go  to  sea 
with  me.  I  think  I  can  manage  it,  since  you  are  so  determined 
upon  it." 

"  Oh,  if  you  can  persuade  her  to  that,  your  are  welcome  to 
tell  her  all." 

That  very  evening  the  captain  broached  the  subject  to  his 
cousin,  and  obtained  her  reluctant  consent.  The  parrot  and 
the  favorite  tortoise  shell  were  returned  to  their  mistress,  who 
said  little  to  her  son  with  regard  to  their  loss — for  she  had  not 
the  heart  to  breathe  a  word  of  reproach,  now  that  he  was 
about  to  leave  her,  and  even  jocko  was  well  housed  in  a  vacant 
dog  kennel  and  taken  under  the  protection  of  Sarah. 

Frank's  object  thus  unexpectedly  obtained,  the  promontory 
was  restored  to  its  original  solitude,  and  Frank,  it  was  arranged, 
should  go  with  his  cousin  to  New  York,  and  sail  as  cabin  boy 
with  him  in  one  of  Mr.  Mordant's  ships — which  the  captain 
commanded.  A  week  from  this  period,  after  having  bidden 
a  tender  adieu  to  his  mother  and  sister,  and  receiving  nume 
rous  warnings  and  admonitions  from  the  former  relative  to 
his  conduct,  and  with  regard  to  the  necessity  of  not  exposing 
himself  too  much  to  the  night  air  during  his  voyage,  and 
always  wearing  a  night  cap  when  he  went  to  bed,  and  saying 
his  prayers,  and  reading  his  Bible,  and  keeping  the  Sabbath 
day  holy,  and  various  other  advice,  which  the  widow  gave  in  her 
solicitude  and  ignorance  of  nautical  habits,  and  which  the  youth 
promised  to  obey,  which  made  the  captain  smile  to  himself — 
but  did  not  think  it  necessary  to  explain  ;  and,  above  all,  bid 
ding  him  never,  never  to  forget  his  mother,  and  receiving  a 
hundred  kisses  from  his  sister,  and  promising  her  treasures  such 
as  she  had  never  dreamed  of,  to  be  brought  from  foreign  parts, 
Frank  Martin  started  with  his  cousin  to  New  York,  and  was 
immediately  installed  as  cabin  boy  in  Captain  Dobson's  ship. 


54  THE    CABIN    BOY'S    STORY. 

Frank  found  that  he  had  many  disagreeable  duties  to  per 
form,  that  he  had  not  thought  of  in  his  aspirations  after  a 
sailor's  life  ;  but  he  was  too  manly  to  complain — and  he  set  to 
work  at  once  and  cheerfully  endeavored  to  fulfil  his  duties.  A 
few  weeks  afterwards  the  vessel  sailed — Frank  having  mean 
while  written  to  his  mother  and  sister,  taking  care  to  daub  the 
letters  with  a  little  tar  as  an  emblem  of  the  change  in  his  life 
— and  to  give  the  paper  a  true  ship-like  flavor. 

He  sailed  several  voyages  with  Captain  Dobson,  until  the 
latter  retired  from  the  sea,  and  then,  after  a  brief  visit  to  his 
home,  he  was  placed  by  Mr.  Mordant,  by  his  own  request,  on 
board  the  Albatross,  where  we  first  introduced  him  to  the 
reader. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

The  Albatross  on  her  voyage — Harry  is  startled  by  discovering  a  locket 
containing  the  portrait  of  a  beautiful  female  in  the  captain's  cabin, 
and  discovers  the  original  in  the  Recluse  of  Annabon. 

WE  left  Captain  Seymour  in  a  great  state  of  anxiety  with 
regard  to  the  character  of  the  vessel  which  had  been  descried 
by  the  man  on  the  look-out  aloft.  The  second  mate,  who  had 
been  ordered  by  the  captain  to  look  through  his  glass  and  give 
his  opinion,  whether  or  not  they  were  the  topgallant  sails  of 
the  stranger  that  he  could  discern  from  the  deck,  peered  long 
and  anxiously — 

"  I  think,  Captain  Seymour,  it  is  only  a  cloud — the  outline 
seems  undefined,"  said  he,  at  length. 

"  I  am  half  inclined  to  think  so  myself,"  responded  the  cap 
tain,  putting  aside  his  glass,  and  walking  to  and  fro  for  some 
minutes  ;  he  then  raised  the  spy-glass  again,  and  peered  long 
in  the  same  direction — 

"  No  ;  by  heavens  !  it  is  the  upper  sail  of  the  stranger  that 
I  see.  I  can  discern  her  topsails  now — the  haze  is  clearing." 

As  he  spoke,  the  man  aloft  sung  out,  "  On  deck  there." 
•  "  Halloa  !"  replied  the  captain. 

"  We  are  nearing  the  strange  sail,  sir.  She  must  have  seen 
us,  and  hove  to.  I  can  see  the  black  line  of  her  bulwarks  since 
the  haze  has  lifted." 

"  We  must  creep  further  to  windward,  Mr.  Tolcroft,"  said  the 
captain.  "  See  that  the  yards  are  braced  sharp  up." 


THE  CABIN  BOY'S  STORY.  55 

"  For'ard,  there  I  brace  the  yards  sharp  up,"  shouted  the 
first  mate. 

"  How  does  the  vessel  bear  now,  my  man  ?"  shouted  the 
captain,  when  the  order  had  been  effected.  "  I  have  lost  sight 
of  the  white  speck  again,"  he  added,  addressing  the  mate. 
"  D — n  this  confounded  haze — it's  rising  from  the  water  like 
a  thick  fog." 

"  She  was  on  our  lee  quarter  this  moment,  sir,"  replied  the 
man  ;  "  but  the  fog  is  so  thick  that  I  have  lost  sight  of  her." 

"  Keep  a  bright  look-out,  and  hail  the  deck  if  you  catch  a 
glimpse  of  her  again,"  shouted  the  captain.  "  Keep  her  close, 
my  man,"  he  added  to  the  man  at  the  helm.  "  Quartermaster, 
see  that  the  steering  is  well  attended  to.  We  will  keep  on  this 
course  for  an  hour  or  two,  and  then  I  will  bear  down  upon  her 
until  I  am  satisfied  as  to  her  quality. 

Having  given  this  order  he  descended  to  the  cabin  to  finish 
his  breakfast.  In  the  course  of  half  an  hour  he  was  again  on 
deck.  The  sun  was  shining  forth  brilliantly,  and  the  heat  was 
growing  oppressive.  The  haze  was  fast  clearing  off ;  and,  in 
the  course  of  a  few  minutes,  the  man  aloft  again  hailed  the 
deck,  saying  that  he  could  distinctly  see  the  outline  of  the  hull 
again.  The  strange  sail  was  soon  seen  distinctly  from  the 
deck,  with  the  aid  of  the  glasses,  and  it  became  very  apparent 
that  she  was  "lying  to." 

"  It  must  be  our  consort,  sir,"  said  the  mate.  "  Were  she 
one  of  the  cruisers  she  would  have  given  chase,  seeing  us 
making  to  windward,  for  she  must  see  that  we  don't  mean  to 
show  fight." 

"I  rather  incline  to  think  it  is,"  answered  the  captain  ; 
11  but  it  may  be  only  a  trick  to  deceive  us.  As  to  fighting,  that 
is  never  worth  while  with  an  empty  ship,  where  nothing  is  to 
be  gained  but  hard  blows.  If  we  were  full,  it  would  be  an 
other  matter.  However,"  he  added,  "  the  wind  is  dying  away, 
and  it  would  be  as  well,  now  we  are  well  to  windward,  to  ex 
amine  her  closer,  and  satisfy  ourselves.  Square  the  yards,  Mr. 
Tolcroft,  and  we  will  edge  towards  her  at  any  rate." 

The  yards  were  squared  and  the  mainsail  hauled  up,  and 
thus  the  bows  of  the  Albatross  were  brought  to  bear  almost 
directly  towards  the  stranger.  The  wind  was  now  light,  but 
an  hour's  sail  brought  the  two  vessels  sufficiently  near  for  the 
captains  to  scan  each  other  with  the  aid  of  the  spyglasses. 

The  stranger  had  squared  her  main  yard,  when  the  Albat 
ross  had  altered  her  course,  and,  at  the  same  time,  had 


56  THE    CABIN    BOY  S    STORY. 

diminished  the  speed  she  would  otherwise  have  made,  by  haul 
ing  up  both  her  courses  and  lowering  her  topgallant  sails. 

In  this  movement  there  was  an  evidence  of  a  desire  of  nearer 
approach,  and,  at  the  same  time,  of  caution,  that  satisfied  the 
captain  of  the  Albatross  that  he  was  right  in  his  conjecture  as 
to  the  character  of  the  vessel,  and  that  it  was  his  expected 
consort  that  he  had  fallen  in  with.  He  hoisted  his  private 
signals,  which,  in  the  course  of  a  few  minutes,  were  responded 
to  on  board  the  other  vessel,  and  the  main  yard  of  the  stranger 
was  again  laid  aback,  and  by  this  means,  in  a  short  time,  the 
vessels  were  within  hail  of  each  other.  Captain  Seymour  was 
the  first  to  seize  the  speaking  trumpet. 

"  Ship  ahoy  1"  shouted  he  ;  "  what  ship  is  that  ?" 

"  The  Dolphin,"  was  the  reply  that  came  booming  over  the 
water,  as  the  gruff  voice  of  the  commander  of  the  strange 
vessel  shouted  in  reply.  "  That  is  the  Albatross,  I  presume," 
he  continued,  in  a  slightly  foreign  accent,  "  though  I  should 
scarcely  recognize  her,  she  looks  so  trim  to  what  she  was  when 
I  last  saw  her." 

"  The  Albatross,  it  is,"  replied  Captain  Seymour.  "  How 
are  you,  Captain  Junot.  What's  the  news  ?" 

"  Ha  1  Captain  Seymour,"  was  the  reply,  now  distinctly 
audible,  as  the  vessels  neared  each  other.  "  By  gar,  I  am  glad 
to  see  you.  Yat  is  de  news  you  shall  ask  ?  Ma  foi !  c'e-st 
miserable." 

"  What  is  the  matter  ?  Have  you  no  cargo  on  board  ?" 
asked  the  captain  of  the  Albatross. 

"  Cargo — non  diable !  sacre  tonnere,  not  von  bit  of  luck  I've 
had  since  I  leave  New  Orleans." 

"  The  devil  !"  exclaimed  Seymour.  Then  he  added  :  "  Lower 
your  boat,  Junot,  and  come  aboard,  and  let's  hear  the  news  in 
detail  from  your  own  lips." 

Captain  Junot  gave  the  necessary  orders  to  lower  the  boat, 
and  in  a  few  minutes  he  descended  the  side,  and  ordered  his 
men  to  pull  alongside  the  Albatross,  on  board  of  which  he  was 
cordially  welcomed  by  Captain  Seymour. 

The  boat's  crew  of  the  strange  ship  consisted  of  half  a 
dozen  rough-looking  fellows,  attired  in  red  woollen  caps  and 
flannel  shirts  ;  while  seated  beside  the  captain,  in  the  stern 
sheets,  was  a  truculent,  dark  complexioned  man,  whose  dis 
tinctive  garb  proclaimed  him  to  be  an  officer,  for  he  wore  a 
fancifully-trimmed  silk  jacket,  with  a  strip  of  gold  lace  on  one 
shoulder,  and  a  gold  lace  band  around  his  cap. 


57 

Captain  Junot  himself  was  attired  in  a  similarly  fanciful  uni 
form,  the  only  difference  in  their  dress  being  that  the  captain 
wore  a  gold  badge  on  both  shoulders.  His  personal  appear 
ance  was  even  less  prepossessing  than  that  of  his  lieutenant, 
for  he  was  a  short,  thick-set  man,  strongly  marked  with  the 
small-pox,  which  disease  had  rendered  one  eye  useless,  and  it 
remained  fixed  in  the  socket,  while  the  other  orb,  small,  but 
black  as  jet,  rolled  about  incessantly  beneath  his  low  brow,  and 
thick,  heavy,  grizzled  eyebrows.  His  complexion  was  tanned 
almost  to  the  blackness  of  a  negro,  and  his  thick  and  coarse 
hair,  as  well  as  the  thicket  of  moustache  and  beard  that 
covered  the  lower  part  of  his  face,  concealing  his  mouth  from 
view,  was  blanched  to  a  dull  grey.  Add  to  this,  the  mark  of 
a  cicatrized  wound  across  his  furrowed  cheek,  which  the  forest 
of  hair  upon  his  face  did  not  conceal,  and  it  will  be  confessed 
that,  despite  his  gay  attire,  Captain  Junot  was  no  Adonis. 

A  greater  contrast  could  not  exist  between  two  human  be 
ings  than  existed  between  the  captains  of  the  two  slavers,  as 
they  shook  hands  upon  the  deck  of  the  Albatross. 

The  elegant  form  and  handsome  features  of  Captain  Sey 
mour  looked  still  more  elegant  and  handsome  as  he  stood  along 
side  his  ill-favored  comrade. 

The  other  officer  also  appeared  to  be  well  known  to  Captain 
Seymour,  for,  after  welcoming  Junot  on  board,  he  extended  his 
hand  to  his  companion,  saying — 

"  And  you  are  welcome,  too,  Senor  Contramczstre.  I  am 
glad  to  see  you.  Why  I  thought  you  were  still  in  jail  at  Ha 
vana." 

"  JEstese  quicto  Capitano,"  replied  the  individual  thus  ad 
dressed,  in  Spanish.  "  Gold  opens  all  locks,  however  strong." 
And  he  gave  a  knowing  wink,  which,  although  intended  for 
pleasantry,  singularly  increased  his  ugliness. 

"  Come  down  into  the  cabin  and  let's  hear  the  bad  news 
you  speak  of,"  said  Captain  Seymour  to  his  visitors  ;  and  then 
saying  to  the  mate — 

"  Keep  a  good  look-out,  Mr.  Tolcroft,  that  the  vessels  don't 
come  too  close  together,"  he  descended  with  the  French  com 
mander  and  his  Spanish  contramatstre  into  the  cabin. 

From  them  he  learnt,  amidst  a  whole  vocabulary  of  French 
and  Spanish  oaths,  that  the  Dolphin  had  been  for  six  weeks 
upon  the  coast  watching  an  opportunity  to  run  in  shore  ;  but 
the  vicinity  of  that  part  of  the  coast,  upon  which  they  ex 
pected  to  find  the  living  cargo  they  were  in  search  of,  was  so 

3* 


58 

closely  watched  by  British  cruisers,  that  they  had  not  dared  to 
approach  the  land. 

This  information  they  had  derived  from  a  native  war-canoe, 
belonging  to  King  Kettle,  who  was  the  owner  of  the  slaves 
that  were  in  waiting  for  the  expected  ships,  and  who  was 
allowed  to  sail  to  and  fro  along  the  coast,  in  consequence  of 
the  belief  entertained  that  he  was  in  league  with  the  British  to 
put  down  the  system  of  slave  dealing,  so  commonly  practised 
by  the  native  chiefs.  The  information  of  the  anticipated 
arrival  of  two  slavers,  and  of  a  large  cargo  of  slaves  being 
secreted  somewhere  along  the  line  of  coast,  had  been  given  by 
the  captain  of  a  merchant  ship,  trading  for  ivory,  who  had 
learnt  it  from  a  Krooman  who  had  been  inveigled  by  the  chief 
into  aiding  him  in  procuring  the  slaves  under  false  pretences, 
and  who  had  paid  the  forfeit  of  his  temerity  by  being  tortured 
and  sacrificed  as  a  propitiatory  offering  to  Cassa  Jumba  (the 
devil.)  Bitter  vengeance  was  sworn  by  Captain  Junot  and 
his  mate  if  ever  they  fell  in  with  the  merchantman. 

"  But  what  metal  do  the  crusiers  carry  ? — they  surely  did  not 
cruise  in  company  ?"  replied  Captain  Seymour.  "  If  I  knew  a 
cargo  was  awaiting  me  in  any  particular  spot — although  I  am 
opposed  to  fighting,  if  it  can  be  avoided — I  would  have  risked 
the  chance  against  a  single  cruiser,  sooner  than  loose  the  spoil." 

"  Madre  de  Dios !  the  devils  carry  ten  guns  each,"  replied 
the  Contramastre. 

11  Sainte  Vurge.  /"  exclaimed  Captain  Junot,  in  the  same 
breath,  "  the  Dolphin  only  carries  six  guns,  and  she  would  be 
quite  unable  to  cope  with  the  Englishman." 

"  Nevertheless,  although  the  Albatross  is  a  smaller  vessel, 
and  only  carries  the  same  armament,  I  shall  not  hesitate  to 
approach  the  coast,"  replied  Seymour. 

"  Vous  etes  trap  couragcux  Capitaine"  said  Junot,  respect 
fully  ;  for  it  was  evident  from  the  general  bearing  of  the 
strangers  that  they  acknowledged  the  captain  of  the  Albatross 
as  their  superior. 

If  the  test  of  superiority  was  left  to  the  peculiar  manage 
ment,  and  the  discipline  maintained  on  board  the  two  vessels, 
it  was  most  surely  in  Captain  Seymour's  favor;  for  the  Dol 
phin's  decks  would  have  given  one  an  idea  of  the  infernal  re 
gions  let  loose  :  yet  she  was  a  beautiful  craft — small,  not 
perhaps  above  four  hundred  tons  register;  but  she  had  a  smart 
and  clipper-like  look,  and  from  the  flashing  of  her  bright  cop 
per,  showing  that  she  was  in  light  sailing  trim,  the  square  cut 


THE    CABIN    BOY'S    STORY.  59 

of  her  sails,  the  symmetrical  arrangement  of  her  spars  and 
rigging,  and  her  quarter  boats — she  looked  so  much  like  a 
man  of  war,  that  Captain  Seymour  was  quite  justifiable  with 
regard  to  the  caution  he  had  observed  in  approaching  her. 
With  this,  however,  all  similarity  to  a  regular  cruiser  ceased  ; 
although  her  crew  was  more  numerous  'than  that  of  the  Alba 
tross,  consisting  of  forty-five  or  fifty  hands,  it  was  not,  as  in 
the  case  of  the  Albatross,  composed  of  American  seamen,  but 
was  a  mixture,  apparently,  from  the  officers  downwards,  of  all 
the  nations  under  the  sun — there  even  being  several  negroes 
amongst  it — and  the  decks  were  dirty,  the  men  lying  idly 
about,  except  those  actually  on  duty  ;  while  no  sort  of  disci 
pline  seemed  to  be  maintained. 

In  the  course  of  an  hour,  the  captain  and  contramcestre  of 
the  Dolphin  returned  on  board,  and  the  two  vessels  parted 
company,  the  Albatross  steering  direct  for  the  coast,  while 
the  fears  of  the  captain  of  the  Dolphin  still  urged  him  to  hang 
aloof. 

Henry  Davis,  who,  when  he  shipped  on  board  the  Albatross, 
had  not  possessed  the  slightest  idea  of  the  real  character  of 
the  vessel,  found  himself  in  a  very  uncomfortable  position  ;  and 
he  could  not  reconcile  himself  to  the  idea  that  Mr.  Mordant 
could  really  be  aware  of  the  destination  of  his  ship.  His  only 
confidant  was  Frank  Martin;  and  he  being  now  engaged  for 
ward  with  the  crew,  he  seldom  was  able  to  converse  with  him. 
The  two  lads  did,  however,  now  and  then,  in  the  first  watch, 
find  a  few  minutes  leisure  to  chat  together,  and  Frank  did  his 
best  to  cheer  the  spirits  of  his  shipmate.  If  he  felt  any  un 
easiness  himself,  he  never  showed  it  before  Harry  ;  but  would 
say,  in  reply  to  the  other's  remarks  : 

"  We  can't  help  it  ;  and  therefore,  my  maxim  is,  '  Let  us 
make  the  best  of  a  bad  bargain,  and  keep  a  still  tongue  in  our 
heads.'  If  we  are  heard  to  grumble,  trust  me,  we  shall  soon 
become  food  for  the  sharks." 

As  to  Harry's  expressed  doubts  of  Mr.  Mordant's  knowledge 
of  the  destination  of  his  vessel,  he  would  reply  : 

"  Trust  me,  Harry,  he  knows  all  about  it.  I  have  heard 
hints  of  this  before  ;  though,  to  tell  the  truth,  I  never  believed 
them." 

"  But,"  said  Harry,  during  one  of  these  conversations — for 
his  ideas  respecting  the  avocations  of  slavers  were  not  very 
clearly  defined,  and  he  confounded  them  with  those  of  pirates — 
of  whose  4re$4fuJ  deeds  he  had  often  read — "  surely,  we  shall 


60  THE    CABIN    BOY  S    STORY. 

not  sink  any  peaceable  merchant  ships  we  come  across  and 
compel  the  crews  to  walk  the  plank,  as  I  have  read  of  ?" 

"No/7  Frank  replied — "I  don't  suppose  we  shall  ;  though, 
for  the  matter  of  that,  I  don't  imagine  Captain  Seymour  would 
miss  a  good  chance  where  the  risk  was  worth  anything.  I 
tell  you,  Harry,  I  have  no  good  opinion  of  Captain  Seymour  ; 
for  all  his  good  looks  and  gentle  voice,  when  nothing  ruffles  his 
temper.  But  I  often  wonder  what  made  you  take  to  a  seafar 
ing  life.  You  are  so  timid  and  quiet.  There  must  have  been 
some  strange  reason  for  your  choice.  I  should  like,  some  day, 
to  learn  your  history." 

"  Perhaps,  some  day,  and  too  soon,  you  may  learn  it,"  said 
Harry — speaking  the  last  words  inaudibly — as  he  left  the  deck 
to  reply  to  the  summons  of  the  cabin  bell. 

The  weather  had  become  almost  calm,  and  the  Albatross 
made  but  very  slow  progress  towards  the  point  of  her  destina 
tion  on  the  coast  ;  and  the  captain  passed  a  considerable  por 
tion  of  his  time  lolling  on  a  sofa  he  had  brought  on  deck,  and 
placed  beneath  the  awning.  He  was  thus  actuated,  partly 
in  consequence  of  the  sultry  weather,  and  partly  by  the  natural 
anxiety  he  felt,  as  he  neared  the  land  and  feared  interruption 
from  the  cruisers. 

One  day,  just  after  he  had  gone  on  deck,  some  duty  or  other 
called  Harry  into  the  after  cabin,  on  the  sofa  in  which  the 
captain  had  been  reclining.  Lying  upon  the  sofa  was  a  locket 
with  a  piece  of  black  ribbon  attached  to  it,  which  Harry  had 
frequently  seen  around  Captain  Seymour's  neck.  Curiosity 
prompted  him  to  unclasp  it,  and  the  moment  he  did  so  he 
started  back  as  if  struck  with  a  panic  ;  his  breath  was  for  a 
moment  suspended,  and  the  blood  forsook  his  cheeks,  while  the 
next  moment  it  bounded  back  from  his  heart,  dyeing  his  clear 
olive  skin  to  the  color  of  crimson.  An  ejaculation  of  pain 
burst  from  his  lips,  and  he  almost  allowed  the  trinket  to  slip 
from  his  hands.  In  a  few  minutes,  however,  he  recovered  him 
self,  and  stood  gazing  intently  upon  the  portrait  in  the  locket, 
although  his  breast  still  heaved  convulsively;  and  yet  there  was 
nothing  apparently  to  cause  this  perturbation  in  the  portrait  he 
held  in  his  hands.  It  was  the  face  and  bust  of  a  most  beautiful 
female,  with  the  peculiar  almond-shaped  eye's  of  the  maidens  of 
the  East,  and  a  rich  profusion  of  yellow  hair,  contrasting  singu 
larly  with  the  rare  beauty  of  the  dark  eyes  and  eyebrows  and 
long  silken  eyelashes.  The  features  were  regular  as  those  of  the 
Greek  Ideal ;  the  brow  was  low  and  broad,  the  nose,  mouth, 


THE    CABIN    BOY'S    STORY.  61 

and  chin  of  the  purest  Grecian  cast,  the  nostrils  thin  and  finely 
curved,  almost  seeming  to  breathe  with  life  in  the  picture,  the 
lips  were  of  a  rosy  red,  slightly  parted,  and  displaying  a  row 
of  teeth,  white  and  even  as  pearls  ;  and  the  complexion  was  of 
the  clearest  white  arid  red.  Harry  could  not  withdraw  his 
gaze.  Was  it  the  surpassing  beauty  of  the  portrait  that  en 
chanted  him  ?  So  Captain  Seymour  appeared  to  think  ;  for 
while  the  boy  stood  thus  seemingly  entranced,  the  captain  de 
scended  into  the  cabin,  unheard  by  him,  and  stood  behind  him, 
gazing  intently  upon  him,  apparently  pleased  with  the  admira 
tion  with  which  he  fancied  the  boy  was  gazing  upon  the  pic 
ture.  He  had  always  been  particularly  gentle  and  conciliating 
to  Harry,  treating  him  more  like  a  companion  than  as  his 
cabin  boy,  often  lending  him  books,  and  appearing  to  find  re 
lief  in  his  conversation  from  the  rude  companionship  of  his 
officers  and  crew,  and  he  was  not  displeased  with  what  he  con 
ceived  the  boy's  admiration  of  the  lovely  countenance  he  was 
examining.  At  length  he  said — 

"Why,  Harry,  you  seem  quite  enchanted  with  that  portrait. 
Well,  in  a  few  days  you  may  perhaps  see  the  original  ;  but, 
my  boy,  you  must  not  look  upon  her  with  such  evident  admira 
tion,"  and  he  smiled  as  he  spoke — "  or  I  shall  grow  jealous." 

Harry  started,  and  again  the  color  forsook  his  cheeks.  Per 
haps  it  was  through  fear — evidently  the  captain  thought  it 
was — for  he  continued  : 

"  Boy  !  I  am  not  angry  with  you.  No  one  could  look  on 
that  lovely  face  unmoved.  I  have-  admired  many  maidens — 
almost  loved  some — but  I  have  never  really  loved  any  one  but 
her." 

Harry  trembled  still  in  every  limb,  but  the  captain  did  not 
seem  to  observe  him,  for  he  took  the'  locket  from  his  hand,  and 
sat  himself  down  on  the  sofa,  and  for  some  minutes  appeared 
buried  in  thought.  His  features  assumed  a  mildness,  almost  a 
gentleness,  that  Harry  had  never  before  observed,  even  in  his 
most  pleasant  moods. 

"  Harry,"  he  at  length  said,  "  I  heard  you  reading  aloud  the 
other  day;  boy.  You  read  well ;  your  voice  is  soft  and  musical 
as  a  woman's.  Come  here  and  read  to  me.  I  am  in  a  strange 
wayward  mood  to-day." 

Harry  came  forward  at  his  captain's  call,  having  hardly  yet 
recovered  his  composure.  He  advanced  to  the  book-shelves  ; 
but  seemed  to  hesitate  what  book  he  should  take  down. 


62 

"Reach  down  Byron's  poems,  Harry,"  continued  the  cap 
tain,  "  and  read  from  the  '  Bride  of  Abydos,'  commencing — 

1  Fair  as  the  first  that  fell  of  womankind.' 

and  continue  on  through  the  verse." 

Harry  obeyed,  and  read  in  a  voice  that  sounded  tremulously 
sweet,  the  more  so  in  consequence  of  the  boy's  emotion,  until 
he  had  reached  the  concluding  line — 

"  And  oh,  that  eye  was  in  itself  a  soul." 

Captain  Seymour  had  listened  attentively  to  the  first  few 
lines,  but  ere  the  boy  had  concluded,  his  thoughts  appeared  to 
wander,  for  he  did  not  for  some  moments  observe  that  he  had 
ceased.  At  length  he  raised  his  head  and  said — 

"  Most  admirably  read,  boy.  Where  did  you  acquire  that 

rich  soft  voice  ?  It  reminds  me  of Bah  ! — no  matter  ;  turn 

over  the  pages  and  read  the  concluding  lines  of  '  The  Corsair/ 
commencing  at  the  verse — 

"  '  His  heart  was  formed  for  softness,  warped  to  wrong.'  " 

Again  Harry  read,  and  this  time  the  captain  sat  gazing  in 
tently  at  him,  and  listening  to  the  beautiful  verses  of  the  poem. 
It  was  concluded,  and  the  captain  repeated  aloud,  and  half 
unconsciously,  the  last  line, 

"  Linked  with  one  virtue  and  a  thousand  crimes." 

"  That  will  do,  boy,"  he  said,  "  you  can  go.  You  are  a  good 
boy,  and  some  day  must  tell  me  your  history.  You  are  not 
what  you  seem." 

The  boy  started,  and  looked  earnestly  and  half  fearfully  at 
the  captain  ;  but  he  was  again,  apparently,  deeply  absorbed  in 
thought. 

The  captain's  gentle  mood  did  not  last  long.  Towards  even 
ing  of  that  very  day  it  fell  calm,  and  for  a  week  the  ship 
scarcely  made  any  headway.  The  sea  was  smooth  as  the  sur 
face  of  a  mirror,  while  a  thin  scum  covered  it  as  far  as  the 
eye  could  reach,  and  a  light  thin  haze  floated  above  to  the 
height  of  two  or  three  feet,  which  reflected  a  glare  from  the 
rays  of  the  tropical  sun,  glancing  perpendicular  upon  it,  that 
was  oppressive  in  the  extreme,  not  only  prostrating  the  phy 
sical  faculties,  but  depressing,  also,  the  spirits  of  the  crew  ;  the 


THE  CABIN  BOY'S  STORY.  63 

sails  hung  in  heavy  folds  against  the  masts,  and  the  decks  and 
sides  of  the  vessel  were  so  heated  that  the  pitch  fairly  boiled 
out  of  the  seams — while  the  iron  and  brass  work  was  rendered 
too  hot  to  be  touched  even  by  the  hard,  horny  hands  of  the 
seamen.  It  was  a  situation  calculated  to  try  the  temper  of 
the  most  equable  disposition,  and  Captain  Seymour  fretted  and 
raged  after  a  fashion  that  fairly  terrified  those  with  whom  he 
came  in  contact.  We  have  remarked,  that  hitherto  he  had 
been  kindly  disposed  towards  Harry  ;  now,  however,  he  was 
querulous  with  him.  Nothing  pleased  him  ;  his  books,  his 
chief  companions  during  his  leisure  hours,  were  neglected  ;  and 
he  was  never  a  quarter  of  an  hour  at  rest  night  or  day.  The 
crew  felt  the  change  severely ;  hitherto  he  had  issued  his  orders 
to  the  mates,  having  only  on  very  rare  occasions  communicated 
them  directly  to  the  seamen.  Now  the  watch  was  never  at 
rest  ;  the  sails  were  continually  being  uselessly  shifted  ;  they 
were  kept  constantly  wetted  in  the  hope  that  they  might 
catch  and  hold  the  slightest  chance  flaw  of  wind — the  standing 
rigging  was  set  up  again  and  again,  as  it  relaxed  under  the 
intense  heat,  and,  at  a  time  when  it  was  a  difficulty  and  trouble 
even  to  move,  the  men  were  kept  constantly  busy  ;  yet  they 
dared  not  complain.  There  was  something  in  the  tone  of  Cap 
tain  Seymour's  voice,  and  in  his  look,  that  told  them  he  was 
not  to  be  trifled  with.  On  one  occasion,  only,  a  stout,  burly 
seaman  ventured  to  grumble,  though  almost  inaudibly,  at  what 
he  conceived  to  be  some  unnecessary  order.  In  a  moment  a 
powerful  blow  from  the  captain's  muscular  arm,  well  directed 
and  aimed  at  the  man's  temple,  laid  him  senseless  upon  the 
deck,  cutting  a  deep  wound,  and  causing  a  contusion  of  the 
brain.  The  poor  man  fell  over  the  raised  poop  upon  the  deck 
below,  but  the  captain  merely  turned  to  some  of  his  messmates 
who  were  looking  on  in  terror,  and  said  calmly — more  calmly 
than  he  had  spoken  for  many  days — 

"Take  that  mutinous  dog  to  his  hammock  and  see  to  him," 
and  then  resumed  his  orders  as  though  nothing  had  happened. 

At  length  the  long  looked  for  breeze  sprang  up,  the  almost 
stagnant  sea  resumed  its  billowy  motion,  the  haze  cleared 
away,  and  the  Albatross  went  gaily  bounding  on  her  course  at 
the  rate  of  six  knots  an  hour..  The  captain's  good  humor  re 
turned,  and  though  he  still  remained  a  good  deal  on  deck,  he 
again  left  the  management  of  his  ship  to  his  officers,  contenting 
himself  with  the  duty  of  keeping  a  sharp  look-out  around,  often 
spending  an  hour  at  a  time  in  the  topmast  cross  tiers,  scanning 


64  THE    CABIN 

the  horizon  with  his  glass  in  all  directions.  Harry  had  never 
yet  been  aloft,  but  one  morning  the  captain  ascended  the  rigging 
without  his  spyglass,  and  he  called  Harry  to  bring  it  up  to  him. 

The  boy  obeyed,  but  in  descending  the  cat-harpings,  after 
having  delivered  the  glass  into  the  captain's  hands,  he  suddenly 
became  giddy — the  ship  careened  over  to  a  sudden  gust  of 
wind,  and  as  she  righted  and  slightly  inclined  over  again  to 
windward,  he  fell  headlong  into  the  sea.  Fortunately  he  had 
fallen  with  the  weather  roll  or  he  must  have  tumbled  in  board, 
and  in  all  probability  have  been  instantly  killed — as  it  was,  the 
coldness  of  the  water  restored  him  ;  he  rose  to  the  surface  and 
attempted  to  swim.  He  was,  however,  evidently  frightened, 
and  unacquainted  with  the  exercise,  for  he  tossed  his  arms 
wildly  about,  and  it  was  doubtful  whether  he  could  have  kept 
himself  above  water  until  a  boat  could  have  been  lowered  to 
his  rescue. 

The  captain  had  descended  shortly  after  the  boy  had  reached 
him  the  glass,  and  coming  down  the  rigging  more  rapidly,  he 
was  only  a  few  feet  above  him  when  he  fell. 

"  Lay  the  main  yard  aback  and  lower  a  boat,"  he  shouted, 
and  the  next  moment  he  plunged  into  the  water,  and  striking 
out,  caught  the  struggling  youth  just  as  he  was  on  the  point 
of  sinking  for  the  second  time.  The  boat  was  lowered,  and 
both  were  brought  on  board — no  mischief  having  occurred  fur 
ther  than  the  fright  which  Harry  had  received. 

"  Go  below  and  strip  yourself,  boy,"  said  the  captain  to  the 
lad — "  a  pretty  fellow  you  are  for  a  sailor.  You  have  caused 
me  to  lose  my  best  spy-glass— and  that  is  more  than  you  are 
worth.  Here,  stay,"  he  added;  "I  will  send  Frank  aft  to 
help  you — and  send  some  dry  clothes  on  deck  to  me." 

"I  can  do  without  help,"  said  the  boy  timidly. 

"  Pooh  !  nonsense.  Here,  Frank,  go  below  and  get  this 
lubberly  fellow  some  dry  clothes." 

Frank  obeyed,  and  descended  to  the  cabin  with  Harry,  but 
he  soon  reappeared  with  a  bundle  of  clothing  for  the  captain, 
which  Harry  had  desired  him  to  carry  up,  and  when  Frank 
returned  he  found  that  Harry  had  already  stripped  himself  and 
put  on  his  dry  clothing. 

"  You  are  smart  enough  in  putting  on  your  toggery,  at  any 
rate,"  said  Frank.  By  Jove  I 'it  was  lucky  for  "you  that  the 
captain  jumped  overboard  after  you,  or  you  would  have  gone 
to  Davy  Jones'  locker,  sure  enough,  before  the  boat  could  have 
reached  you.  I  didn't  give  the  captain  credit  for  so  much  hu- 


KING  KETTLE-  AND  THE  IONAGA  CHIEFS, 

u  The  ornament,  hoirever,  in  the  jmssession  of  which  he  chiefly  prided  himself,  and  from  which 
he  had  derived  his  European  appellation,  teas  a  small  copper  tea-kettle,  polished  to  the  utmost 
brightness,  which  was  suspended  from  his  shoulders  by  a  leathern  strap,  and  dangled  against 
his  posteriors  as  he  walked." 


THE  CABIN  BOY'S  STORY.  65 

manity.  Well,  he  is  a  strange  fellow  ;  I  can't  make  him  out," 
and  seeing  that  his  services  were  no  longer  needed,  Frank  re 
turned  to  the  deck. 

A  day  or  two  afterwards  the  ship  reached  the  meridian  of 
Cape  Palmas,  and  standing  close  hauled  on  the  larboard  tack, 
steered  across  the  Gulf  of  Guinea — holding  a  W.  S.  W.  course 
to  Majumba,  a  port  in  Loango,  to  the  northward  of  the  capi 
tal,  where  the  captain  expected  to  find  his  cargo  ready  for  him. 
A  few  days  brought  the  vessel  in  sight  of  the  small,  beautifully 
wooded  island  of  Annabon,  the  southern  shore  of  which  the 
Albatross  closely  hugged — so  closely,  indeed,  that  the  enchant 
ing  scenery  of  the  island  was  plainly  distinguishable.  The 
captain  kept  a  white  flag  flying  at  the  gaffend,  all  the  time  the 
land  was  in  sight,  and  stood  on  the  quarter  deck  with  a  spy 
glass  to  his  eye,  intently  gazing  at  one  particular  spot.  The 
vessel  was  still  a  considerable  distance  from  the  shore,  but 
some  of  the  sailors  said  they  fancied  they  could  discern  a  simi 
lar  white  flag  fluttering  in  the  breeze  amongst  the  dark  green 
foliage.  Whether  or  not,  the  captain  seemed  satisfied  ;  for  as 
the  island  gradually  receded  from  view  he  lowered  his  glass, 
and  during  the  remainder  of  the  day  was  in  a  particularly 
amiable  temper.  In  the  evening  a  double  allowance  of  grog 
was  issued  to  the  crew,  and  for  the  first  time  during  the  voyage 
the  mates  were  invited  to  dine  at  the  captain's  table. 

Three  days  after  they  sighted  the  main  land,  and  towards 
nightfall  anchored  off  the  little  native  town  of  Majumba. 

In  the  course  of  the  evening  several  canoes  filled  with  ne 
groes  came  on  board,  each  canoe  bearing  a  chief.  They  were, 
generally  speaking,  fine,  athletic  looking  men,  with  forms  that 
would  have  served  as  models  for  the  sculptor's  chisel,  and  as 
they  were  all  entirely  naked,  every  opportunity  was  given  of 
judging  of  their  physical  perfection.  They  were  unmistaka 
bly  negroes,  but  they  had  nothing  in  common  with  the  repul- 
siveness  of  the  slave  negro  in  their  open  countenances.  They 
were  deeply  scarified  across  the  chest  and  on  the  calves  of  the 
legs — not  with  the  handsome,  regular  tattoo  of  the  South  Sea 
islanders,  but  with  deeply  cut,  gaping,  black  wounds,  which 
had  cicatrized,  and  left  frightful  scars,  the  only  drawback  to 
their  generally  fine  appearance.  The  chiefs,  however,  were 
distinguishable  by  their  uncommon  and  unique  finery,  which 
appeared  to  have  been  borrowed  from  the  cast-off  dresses  of 
some  theatrical  wardrobe,  and  scrambled  for  and  appropriated 
promiscuously  by  the  wearers. 


66  THE    CABIN    BOY'S    STORY. 

The  garments  had  probably  been  the  gifts  of  various  slave 
captains  and  captains  of  men-of-war  and  merchantmen,  who 
had  at  different  periods  visited  the  coast,  and  the  chiefs  cer 
tainly  presented  a  motley  appearance.  One,  for  instance,  who 
seemed  to  think  himself  of  no  little  importance,  had  decked 
himself  out  in  a  woman's  flannel  petticoat,  over  which  he  wore 
the  red  jacket  of  a  marine,  while  a  woollen  nightcap  covered 
his  head,  and  his  feet  were  encased,  one  in  a  dress  pump,  and 
the  other  in  a  huge  sea  boot.  One  had  a  sailor's  jacket  only, 
which  he  wore  closely  buttoned  round  his  body,  while  all  the 
rest  of  his  person  was  entirely  naked.  Another  took  pride  in 
a  pair  of  blue  navy  pantaloons  with  gold  lace  stripes,  but  dis 
daining  the  servile  fashion  of  crippling  the  limbs  by  wearing 
them  in  the  ordinary  manner,  he  wore  them  buttoned  round  his 
neck  with  the  legs  dangling  behind.  Some  had  nothing  but 
vests  ;  the  garments  of  others  were  confined  to  a  simple  pair 
of  knee-breeches — rarely,  however,  worn  where  breeches  ought 
to  be.  One  stalwart  savage,  totally  naked  otherwise,  rejoiced 
in  a  pair  of  long  woollen  hose,  drawn  up  above  the  knee,  the 
feet  of  which  having  worn  out,  had  been  cut  off  at  the  ancles, 
and,  ornamented  with  feathers,  were  worn  about  the  owner's 
neck,  and  esteemed  as  a  most  powerful  fetish,  upon  which  no 
evil  eye  of  man  or  beast  could  look  and  remain  scathless  ;  but 
the  crowning  glory  of  attire  was  that  worn  by  the  celebrated 
King  Kettle,  well  known  in  the  annals  of  the  slave  trade,  and 
notorious  for  his  skill  and  cunning  in  diplomacy,  he  having  for 
a  long  period  managed  to  keep  on  equal  good  terms  with  the 
commanders  of  the  English  ships  of  war  that  visited  the  coast 
and  the  captains  of  the  slavers,  who  constituted  his  best  cus 
tomers.  This  cunning  and  powerful  chief  wore  an  old  cocked 
hat,  which  he  had  himself  gaily  fringed  with  feathers  ;  a  blue 
dress  coat,  rather  shabby  and  threadbare,  but  the  shabbiness 
of  which  was  in  a  great  measure  atoned  for  by  a  pair  of  officers' 
epaulettes  which  he  had  mounted  on  his  shoulders.  He  had  a 
stock  about  his  neck,  but  no  shirt,  vest,  or  pantaloons,  although 
a  black  silk  apron  was  tied  around  his  waist  and  hung  down 
in  front  of  his  person,  reaching  nearly  to  his  knees.  He  dis 
carded  stockings,  probably  on  account  of  the  heat  of  the  clim 
ate  ;  but  his  feet  were  encased  in  Blucher  boots,  considerably 
dilapidated.  The  ornament,  however,  in  the  possession  of 
which  he  chiefly  prided  himself,  and  from  which  he  had  derived 
his  European  appellation,  was  a  small  copper  tea-kettle,  polished 
to  the  utmost  brightness,  which  was  suspended  from  his  slioul- 


THE    CABIN    BOY's    STORY.  67 

ders  by  a  leathern  strap,  and  dangled  against  his  posteriors  as 
he  walked. 

The  interior  contained  a  varied  and  valued,  if  not  valuable, 
assortment  of  sea  shells,  pieces  of  old  iron  and  copper,  and 
pebbles,  which  made  a  most  confounded  clatter  as  his  majesty 
walked  along  with  haughty  stride,  the  kettle  banging  against 
him  at  every  step.  It  had  been  especially  blessed  by  the  sor 
cerers,  and  was  considered  the  most  powerful  fetish  in  the 
country,  and  the  source  of  all  King  Kettle's  power  and  influ 
ence. 

Most  of  the  members  of  this  motley  group  were  welcomed 
as  old  acquaintances  by  Captain  Seymour  and  his  first  and 
second  mates,  while  the  third  mate  and  several  of  the  crew 
were  also  recognized  by  them,  thus  proving  that  although  it 
was  their  first  voyage  on  board  the  Albatross,  it  was  not  their 
first  visit  to  the  slave  coast. 

The  conversation  was  chiefly  carried  on  in  Spanish  and 
French — few  of  the  natives,  not  excepting  the  chiefs,  being 
able  to  speak  more  than  a  few  words  of  broken  English. 

Aguardiente  was  the  first  thing  asked  for,  and  then  tobacco 
in  the  leaf,  both  of  which  were  moderately  supplied.  On  being 
questioned  by  the  captain,  the  chiefs  informed  him  that  the 
whole  line  of  coast  from  Majurnba  as  far  south  as  X/oanda  had 
been  for  many  weeks  narrowly  watched  by  two  British  men-of- 
war,  and  King  Kettle  had  found  it  necessary  to  remove  his 
slaves  to  Quaddah,  a  village  on  the  Zaire  river,  beyond  where 
it  was  unnavigable  by  any  thing  but  native  canoes,  and  a  distance 
of  seven  days'  journey  from  the  coast,  in  consequence  of  the 
men-of-war's  boats  having  pulled  a  great  many  miles  up  the 
river. 

King  Kettle  also  mentioned  with  pride  and  satisfaction  that 
he  had  entrapped  the  captain  and  crew  of  the  brig  that  had 
given  information  to  the  men-of-war,  and  had  massacred  them 
all,  and  to  prevent  suspicion,  had  burnt  the  vessel,  after  having 
robbed  her  of  every  portable  article.  It  would,  he  added,  be 
at  least  half  a  moon  or  more  before  the  slaves  could  be  brought 
back  to  the  coast,  although  he  believed  the  King  of  Eng 
land — as  he  .termed  the  ships-of-war — had  got  tired  of  waiting, 
and  fancying  the  information  had  been  false,  had  sheered  off, 
and  had  not  been  seen  for  nearly  a  moon. 

Captain  Seymour,  finding  that  he  had  a  great  deal  of  leisure 
time  on  hand,  left  the  management  of  the  vessel,  until  the  ar 
rival  of  the  slaves,  to  his  mates,  and  resolved  to  pay  a  visit,  on 


66  THE    CABIN    BOY'S    STORY. 

The  garments  had  probably  been  the  gifts  of  various  slavf 
captains  and  captains  of  men-of-war  and  merchantmen,  who 
had  at  different  periods  visited  the  coast,  and  the  chiefs  cer 
tainly  presented  a  motley  appearance.  One,  for  instance,  who 
seemed  to  think  himself  of  no  little  importance,  had  decked 
himself  out  in  a  woman's  flannel  petticoat,  over  which  he  wore 
the  red  jacket  of  a  marine,  while  a  woollen  nightcap  covered 
his  head,  and  his  feet  were  encased,  one  in  a  dress  pump,  and 
the  other  in  a  huge  sea  boot.  One  had  a  sailor's  jacket  only, 
which  he  wore  closely  buttoned  round  his  body,  while  all  the 
rest  of  his  person  was  entirely  naked.  Another  took  pride  in 
a  pair  of  blue  navy  pantaloons  with  gold  lace  stripes,  but  dis 
daining  the  servile  fashion  of  crippling  the  limbs  by  wearing 
them  in  the  ordinary  manner,  he  wore  them  buttoned  round  his 
neck  with  the  legs  dangling  behind.  Some  had  nothing  but 
vests  ;  the  garments  of  others  were  confined  to  a  simple  pair 
of  knee-breeches — rarely,  however,  worn  where  breeches  ought 
to  be.  One  stalwart  savage,  totally  naked  otherwise,  rejoiced 
in  a  pair  of  long  woollen  hose,  drawn  up  above  the  knee,  the 
feet  of  which  having  worn  out,  had  been  cut  off  at  the  ancles, 
and,  ornamented  with  feathers,  were  worn  about  the  owner's 
neck,  and  esteemed  as  a  most  powerful  fetish,  upon  which  no 
evil  eye  of  man  or  beast  could  look  and  remain  scathless  ;  but 
the  crowning  glory  of  attire  was  that  worn  by  the  celebrated 
King  Kettle,  well  known  in  the  annals  of  the  slave  trade,  and 
notorious  for  his  skill  and  cunning  in  diplomacy,  he  having  for 
a  long  period  managed  to  keep  on  equal  good  terms  with  the 
commanders  of  the  English  ships  of  war  that  visited  the  coast 
and  the  captains  of  the  slavers,  who  constituted  his  best  cus 
tomers.  This  cunning  and  powerful  chief  wore  an  old  cocked 
hat,  which  he  had  himself  gaily  fringed  with  feathers  ;  a  blue 
dress  coat,  rather  shabby  and  threadbare,  but  the  shabbiness 
of  which  was  in  a  great  measure  atoned  for  by  a  pair  of  officers' 
epaulettes  which  he  had  mounted  on  his  shoulders.  He  had  a 
stock  about  his  neck,  but  no  shirt,  vest,  or  pantaloons,  although 
a  black  silk  apron  was  tied  around  his  waist  and  hung  down 
in  front  of  his  person,  reaching  nearly  to  his  knees.  He  dis 
carded  stockings,  probably  on  account  of  the  heat  of  the  clim 
ate  ;  but  his  feet  were  encased  in  Blucher  boots,  considerably 
dilapidated.  The  ornament,  however,  in  the  possession  of 
which  he  chiefly  prided  himself,  and  from  which  he  had  derived 
his  European  appellation,  was  a  small  copper  toa-kettle,  polished 
to  the  utmost  brightness,  which  was  suspended  from  his  shoul- 


67 

ders  by  a  leathern  strap,  and  dangled  against  his  posteriors  as 
he  wafked. 

The  interior  contained  a  varied  and  valued,  if  not  valuable, 
assortment  of  sea  shells,  pieces  of  old  iron  and  copper,  and 
pebbles,  which  made  a  most  confounded  clatter  as  his  majesty 
walked  along  with  haughty  stride,  the  kettle  banging  against 
him  at  every  step.  It  had  been  especially  blessed  by  the  sor 
cerers,  and  was  considered  the  most  powerful  fetish  in  the 
country,  and  the  source  of  all  King  Kettle's  power  and  influ 
ence. 

Most  of  the  members  of  this  motley  group  were  welcomed 
as  old  acquaintances  by  Captain  Seymour  and  his  first  and 
second  mates,  while  the  third  mate  and  several  of  the  crew 
were  also  recognized  by  them,  thus  proving  that  although  it 
was  their  first  voyage  on  board  the  Albatross,  it  was  not  their 
first  visit  to  the  slave  coast. 

The  conversation  was  chiefly  carried  on  in  Spanish  and 
French — few  of  the  natives,  not  excepting  the  chiefs,  being 
able  to  speak  more  than  a  few  words  of  broken  English. 

Aguardiente  was  the  first  thing  asked  for,  and  then  tobacco 
in  the  leaf,  both  of  which  were  moderately  supplied.  On  being 
questioned  by  the  captain,  the  chiefs  informed  him  that  the 
whole  line  of  coast  from  Majumba  as  far  south  as  Loanda  had 
been  for  many  weeks  narrowly  watched  by  two  British  men-of- 
war,  and  King  Kettle  had  found  it  necessary  to  remove  his 
slaves  to  Quaddah,  a  village  on  the  Zaire  river,  beyond  where 
it  was  unnavigable  by  any  thing  but  native  canoes,  and  a  distance 
of  seven  days'  journey  from  the  coast,  in  consequence  of  the 
men-of-war's  boats  having  pulled  a  great  many  miles  up  the 
river. 

King  Kettle  also  mentioned  with  pride  and  satisfaction  that 
he  had  entrapped  the  captain  and  crew  of  the  brig  that  had 
given  information  to  the  men-of-war,  and  had  massacred  them 
all,  and  to  prevent  suspicion,  had  burnt  the  vessel,  after  having 
robbed  her  of  every  portable  article.  It  would,  he  added,  be 
at  least  half  a  moon  or  more  before  the  slaves  could  be  brought 
back  to  the  coast,  although  he  believed  the  King  of  Eng 
land — as  he  .termed  the  ships-of-war — had  got  tired  of  waiting, 
and  fancying  the  information  had  been  false,  had  sheered  off, 
and  had  not  been  seen  for  nearly  a  moon. 

Captain  Seymour,  finding  that  he  had  a  great  deal  of  leisure 
time  on  hand,  left  the  management  of  the  vessel,  until  the  ar 
rival  of  the  slaves,  to  his  mates,  and  resolved  to  pay  a  visit,  on 


68 

private  business  of  his  own,  as  he  stated,  to  the  island  of  An- 
nabon,  and  with  this  object  he  ordered  the  large  pinnace  which 
the  Albatross  carried  for  the  purpose  of  sailing  up  the  rivers, 
after  slaves,  to  be  got  ready,  and  supplied  with  a  fortnight's 
provisions,  and  taking  with  him  half  a  dozen  of  his  men  and  the 
cabin  boy,  Harry,  he  immediately  set  sail  for  the  island. 

Making  long  stretches  during  the  day,  and  taking  advantage 
of  the  land  breezes  at  night,  the  pinnace  reached  Annabon  in 
three  days  from  leaving  Majumba,  and  Captain  Seymour  landed 
at  a  native  Portuguese  village,  consisting  of  a  score  or  two  of 
wretched  huts,  and  taking  Harry  with  him,  leaving  his  crew 
to  take  charge  of  the  pinnace,  he  walked  a  mile  or  two  from 
the  village  along  a  wild  native  road  skirting  the  ocean,  and 
winding  amidst  some  of  the  richest  verdure  and  most  enchant 
ing  scenery  that  the  world  can  produce.  Mangoes,  bananas, 
limes,  and  other  tropical  fruits,  hung  in  clusters  on  the  bushes 
that  skirted  the  road,  which  was  little  more  than  a  beaten  foot 
path — the  trees  forming  an  archway  over  the  head  at  an  ele 
vation  of  sometimes  a  hundred  feet,  thus  sheltering  the  travel 
ler  from  the  ardent  solar  rays,  without  obstructing  the  free 
current  of  air  from  the  ocean.  After  having  proceeded  for  two 
miles,  they  came  upon  a  cultivated  clearing  amidst  the  forest, 
open  to  the  sea — which  was  thickly  studded  with  negro  huts — 
and  in  the  rear  of  which  was  a  small  cottage  with  a  verandah 
running  around  it  after  the  style  of  a  West  Indian  country 
residence.  A  winding  walk  led  to  the  cottage,  edged  on  either 
side  with  mango  and  other  fruit  trees  in  full  blossom,  or  bear 
ing  rich  clusters  of  ripe  fruit  which  perfumed  the  atmosphere. 
Several  negroes  welcomed  the  appearance  of  the  captain  in 
Portuguese  and  broken  Spanish  ;  but  he  cautiously  enjoined 
silence,  and  reached  the  cottage  without  being  observed  by 
any  of  its  inmates. 

He  entered  the  door  without  ceremony,  appearing  to  be  well 
acquainted  with  the  place,  and  proceeded  to  an  inner  apart 
ment — bidding  Harry  wait  in  the  passage. 

As  the  captain  entered,  Harry  heard  a  musical  female  voice 
exclaim,  in  tones  of  delight,  "  Ah  !  Caro  mio  Quien  es  V" — a 
light,  bounding  step  flew  to  meet  him — and  then  was  heard  the 
soft,  indistinct  murmur  of  mutual  caresses — the  door  was 
closed,  and  all  was  silent. 

In  a  few  minutes  the  captain  came  out  of  the  room,  and  tak 
ing  a  carpet  bag  which  Harry  had  carried  up  from  the  boat, 
he  took  from  it  a  small  casket,  which  he  desired  Harry  to  carry 


69 

into  the  room,  while  he  looked  over  the  contents  of  the  bag — 
adding,  "  Harry,  I  told  you  one  day  at  sea  you  should  see  the 
original  of  that  portrait  you  so  much  admired  ;  but  beware, 
boy/'  he  continued  laughingly,  "  beware  of  my  warning." 

Harry  felt  as  if  he  had  been  transported  into  some  scene  of 
enchantment.  He  scarcely  knew  what  the  captain  said,  but 
he  mechanically  took  the  casket  and  entered  the  room.  At  the 
first  glance  he  was  still  more  astonished  and  bewildered  by  the 
light  and  airy  elegance  of  the  apartment.  It  appeared  as 
though  by  some  magic  spell  a  fairy  abode  had  been  dropped  in 
the  midst  of  a  primeval  wilderness  ;'  but  turning  his  head,  an 
object  met  his  gaze  which  attracted  all  his  attention,  for, 
lounging  in  a  languid  yet  elegant  posture,  upon  a  crimson  silk 
ottoman,  was  the  original  of  the  portrait  in  the  locket,  far  sur 
passing  in  rich,  living  loveliness,  the  exquisite  beauty  of  the 
painting.  She  was  attired  in  a  Greek  costume,  and  a 
negress,  fancifully  dressed,  was  seated  near  her,  holding  a 
huge  fan  in  her  hand,  with  which  it  appeared  she  had  been 
fanning  her  lovely  mistress.  Harry  had  read  of  the  exquisite 
refinement  and  beauty  of  the  interior  arrangements  of  the 
dwelling  of  the  favored  mistress  of  a  Turkish  harem.  To  his 
fancy  it  seemed  as  though  he  had  been  suddenly  transported 
into  one  of  these  forbidden  abodes.  He  stood  transfixed  with 
astonishment,  and  a  mingling  of  overwhelming  sensations.  So 
much  was  he  bewildered,  that  he  even  hesitated  when  the 
sweet  voice  of  the  lovely  lounger  bade  him  approach  and  de 
liver  into  her  hands  the  gift  of  her  HUSBAND. 

"  Hdbla  V.  Castdlanol"  she  added,  noticing  the  hesitation 
of  the  youth. 

"  Me  ahgro  mucho  de  ver  a  V.     Qjte  es  esto  !"  pointing  to  the 
casket. 

Thus  addressed,  although  he  knew  but  little  of  Spanish, 
Harry  advanced  to  the  lady  and  placed  the  casket  in  her  hand. 

"  Muchisimos  gracios,"  she  replied,  as  she  opened  the  box, 
and  took  thence  a  jewelled  miniature  of  Captain  Seymour. 


70  TIIF    CABIN 


CHAPTER  VII. 

A  letter  from  a  correspondent  of  Mr.  Mordant's  at  Sierra  Leone — An 
other  anonymous  letter  received  by  the  Widow  Miller — A  letter  from 
Captain  Seymour,  denying  any  knowledge  of  the  abduction  of  Jane 
Miller — Some  account  of  the  widow's  family — Charles  Mordant  en 
deavors  to  obtain  money  on  the  security  of  his  expectations. 

WE  mentioned  in  a  former  chapter  that  Mr.  Mordant  had 
received  a  letter  from  a  correspondent  on  the  African  coast, 
which  occasioned  him  some  considerable  uneasiness.  The  let 
ter  was  from  his  factor  at  Fernando  Po,  and  it  stated  that  the 
ship  Dolphin,  Captain  Junot,  commander,  in  the  success  of 
which  he  had  some  considerable  interest,  had,  he  had  learnt, 
been  driven  from  the  coast  in  consequence  of  the  rigid  watch 
after  slavers  that  was  kept  up  by  the  British  cruisers,  and  he 
feared  that  a  fine  assortment  of  slaves,  admirably  adapted  for 
the  Cuban  market,  would  be  lost.  He  added  that  the  Alba 
tross,  under  the  command  of  Captain  Seymour,  was  expected 
shortly  to  arrive  upon  the  coast,  and  although  he  had  great 
confidence  in  Captain  Seymour's  judgment  and  discretion,  he 
feared  he  might  rush  on  to  his  destruction.  There  was  suffi 
cient  in  this  letter  to  occasion  the  merchant  a  great  deal  of 
uneasiness.  To  be  sure,  if  the  Albatross  should  be  captured, 
he  thought  he  would  not  actually  lose  money,  but  he  would 
miss  a  fine  opportunity  of  making  it,  which  was  as  much  to  be 
deplored  as  would  be  an  actual  loss;  but  this  was  not  all.  The 
honest,  upright,  straightforward,  and,  in  the  estimation  of 
mankind,  most  worthy  merchant,  was  fearful  that,  if  the  Alba 
tross  should  be  suddenly  captured,  without  giving  time  for  Cap 
tain  Seymour  to  make  such  preparations  as  he  might  think 
advisable,  his  own  good  name  might  suffer,  since  there  were 
numerous  letters  and  other  matters  that  might  be  readily 
traced  to  him. 

Meanwhile  Mr.  Mordant  was  considerably  harassed  by  the 
importunities  and  complaints  of  the  widow  Miller,  who  was,  as 
the  reader  is  well  aware,  still  troubled  with  doubts  in  regard 
to  the  fate  of  her  child.  At  first  she  had  been  almost  satisfied 
that  the  body  of  the  unfortunate  female  found  in  the  river  had 
been  her  daughter's,  though  she  was  at  a  loss  to  account  for 
the  manner  of  her  death  ;  then  again  doubts  arose  in  her  mind, 
in  consequence  of  the  knowledge  that  certain  articles  of  her 
daughter's  scanty  wardrobe  and  store  of  jewelry  had  been  car- 


THE  CABIN  BOY'S  STORY.  71 

ried  off,  which  were  just  the  articles  she  imagined  she  would 
have  chosen  to  carry  with  her  herself  had  she  been  going  any 
where  upon  a  long  visit.  Amidst  all  these  doubts  she  began 
to  credit  the  suspicion  that  had  arisen  in  her  mind  that  Captain 
Seymour  must  have  been  concerned  in  her  flight  from  home, 
and  that  possibly  he  had  managed  to  secrete  her  somewhere, 
and  she  might  be  still  living.  The  mother's  heart  clung  to 
this  belief,  and  she  besought  Mr.  Mordant  to  make  such  inqui 
ries  of  Captain  Seymour  as  should  set  her  mind  at  rest.  To 
add  to  her  distress  and  uncertainty,  though  she  did  not  place 
much  faith  in  anonymous  letters,  she  had  received  a  third  let 
ter  from  the  same  singular  and  mysterious  correspondent, 
which  contained  the  following  lines  : 

"  Madam,  grieve  not  for  the  death  of  your  child,  if  you  would 
sooner  know  that  she  still  lived,  though  forever  disgraced, 
than  that  she  had  passed  away  from  the  earth  forever.  The 
body  of  the  unfortunate  female  found  in  the  North  River  was 
not  that  of  Jane  Miller." 

The  ambiguous  phraseology  of  this  letter  troubled  fhe  widow 
exceedingly.  It  was  scarcely  comprehensible  to  her.  Sometimes 
she  thought  that  some  person  was  trifling  with  her,  but  she 
could  not  bring  herself  to  believe  that  any  one  could  be  so 
heartless,  merely  for  the  sake  of  mystifying  her  and  gratifying 
a  cruel  propensity  to  sport  with  her  harrowed  feelings. 

She  called,  therefore,  at  the  office  of  Mr.  Mordant,  down 
town,  and  implored  him  so  earnestly  to  write  to  Captain  Sey 
mour,  and  ascertain  truly  whether  he  knew  any  thing  respect 
ing  her  daughter's  fate,  promising  even,  if  he  would  only 
relieve  her  anxiety,  to  pardon  him  the  wrong  he  might  have 
done  to  her  daughter  and  herself,  that  the  merchant  promised 
to  write,  and  as  he  was  himself  anxious  to  know  how  Captain 
Seymour  had  succeeded,  and  whether  the  fears  of  his  agent  had 
proved  groundless,  he  did  write  by  the  very  earliest  mail  to 
Fernando  Po. 

It  was  of  course  a  long  time  before  any  answer  was  re 
ceived  ;  and  when,  at  last,  a  letter  from  the  Captain  arrived, 
Mr.  Mordant  was  relieved  of  a  great  deal  of  anxiety,  for  Sey 
mour  said  that  he  had  evaded  the  cruisers — indeed  they  had, 
he  believed,  left  the  vicinity  of  the  Loango  coast  before  he 
arrived  there  ;  that  he  had  secured  a  prime  lot  of  negroes — 
young  and  healthy — and  that  there  was  still  a  sufficient  cargo 
left  to  fill  up  the  Dolphin  when  she  should  arrive,  which  she 


72  Tias  CABIN  BOY'S  STORY. 


had  not  done  at  the  date  of  his  writing.  Then  followed  a  few 
words  of  badinage  at  the  poltroonery  of  Captain  Junot,  and 
the  captain  concluded  his  letter  in  the  following  words  : 

"  By  the  way,  there  is  one  subject  mentioned  in  your  letter 
which  has  occasioned  me  a  great  deal  of  uneasiness  and  annoy 
ance.  You  ask  me  if  I  know  any  thing  of  the  unfortunate 
young  lady,  Jane  Miller,  and  insinuate  that  probably  I  might 
have  abducted  or  kidnapped  her  from  her  home  and  carried  her 
on  board  the  Albatross.  You  hint,  also,  that  if  I  have  so 
done,  you  will  look  it  over,  if  I  can  manage  to  set  her  on  shore 
somewhere  on  the  coast,  or  in  the  Brazils,  on  my  return,  so 
that  the  affair  may  not  be  noised  about  in  New  York  —  and 
further,  that  if  her  mother  is  satisfied  that  the  girl  is  living, 
she  will  be  relieved  from  much  anxiety,  and  yourself  from  much 
unpleasant  importunity,  if  she  is  made  aware  that  her  daughter 
is  in  some  foreign  land  —  and  that  under  such  circumstances 
you  will  take  measures  to  enable  her  to  rejoin  her.  I  desire  to 
inform  you  positively,  that  no  one,  even  amongst  her  own  rela 
tions  —  setting  aside  her  mother  —  was  more  shocked  than  I  was 
myself,  when  I  heard  of  her  disappearance.  I  did  not  seek  to 
entice  her  on  board  the  Albatross,  and  she  is  not  on  board 
that  vessel  ;  but  if  she  were  I  would  not  act  up  to  your  ex 
pressed  wishes  regarding  her.  I  know  that  I  am  accounted  a 
sad  fellow  amongst  females  —  but  I  wish  you  to  know  that  I  am 
incapable  of  premeditated  cruelty  to  any  woman,  however 
much  I  may  disregard  the  feelings  of  the  sterner  sex.  I  paid 
considerable  attention  to  Miss  Miller  when  I  was  last  in  New 
York  —  more,  much  more  than  I  was  justified  in  doing.  I 
thought  her  a  most  fascinating  girl.  I  was  at  her  mother's 
house  only  a  day  or  two  before  her  mysterious  disappearance, 
and  I  walked  out  with  her.  Our  conversation  was  serious, 
and  when  I  quitted  her,  after  conducting  her  home,  I  left  her 
weeping.  I  will  confess  I  have  had  sad  forebodings  respecting 
her  fate;  but  although  my  own  conscience  might  not  acquit 
me,  if  any  thing  serious  should  have  happened  to  her,  I  am  at 
least  legally  innocent  of  any  crime  against  her.  You  are  at 
liberty  to  show  this  letter,  or  rather  this  postscript,  to  Mrs 
Miller,  and  to  rest  assured  I  am  writing  the  truth.  I  posi 
tively  know  nothing  respecting  the  fate  of  Jane  Miller." 

The  merchant  delivered  the  postscript  into  the  widow's 
hands.  He  and  she  both  felt  satisfied  that  the  captain  had 
written  the  truth,  and  the  widow  went  home  in  despair  ;  the 


THE    CABIN    BOY'S    STORY.  73 

last  straw  of  hope  at  which  the  drowning  wretch  catches,  was 
snatched  from  her. 

As  to  Mr.  Mordant,  he  was  much  annoyed  at  the  tone  of 
the  latter  portion  of  the  letter.  He  perceived  that  Captain 
Seymour  knew  full  well  the  independent  position  which  he  held 
with  regard  to  the  merchant — his  nominal  employer — and  he 
saw  that  it  would  be  necessary  for  him  in  future  to  be  guarded 
in  his  expressions  in  order  that  he  might  not  offend  the  young 
seaman  ;  besides,  he  was  disappointed  to  a  certain  degree,  be 
cause  Jane  Miller  was  not  on  board  the  Albatross.  He  would 
far  sooner  she  had  been  forever  cast  off  and  lost  to  society, 
than  that  subsequent  discoveries  should  prove  that  the 
drowned  female  was  really  her,  as  thus  a  sort  of  stigma  might 
attach  itself  to  his  family,  in  consequence  of  the  distant  connec 
tion  with  the  deceased. 

When  the  clerical  cousin  of  Mr.  Mordant  had  died,  he  had 
left  his  little  property  in  the  hands  of  the  merchant,  who  was 
at  that  time  a  much  poorer  man  than  he  was  at  the  date  in 
which  our  story  opens  ;  but  being  even  then  extensively  en 
gaged  in  mercantile  business,  the  simple-hearted  clergyman  had 
believed  that  he  would  do  his  best  to  increase  the  property,  so 
that  on  her  attaining  her  majority,  Jane  might  have  at  least  a 
comfortable  dowry  to  carry  with  her  to  the  man  whom  she 
might  marry.  The  widow  had  some  little  property  of  her  own, 
and  it  was  therefore  with  .his  wife's  full  consent  that  he  had 
devised  his  daughter's  property  to  be  subjected  to  the  manage 
ment  of  her  guardian. 

Mrs.  Miller  had  been  informed  a  few  years  afterwards  that 
there  was  a  flaw  in  the  title  deeds  of  the  property,  and  that 
it  had  been  given  up  in  consequence  of  an  original  Dutch  claim 
having  been  preferred  ;  and  as  she  had  perfect  trust  in  tho 
integrity  of  her  late  husband's  cousin,  she  had  believed  him, 
and  had  instituted  no  inquiry.  She  had  expressed  her  regret 
at  the  unfortunate  change  in  her  child's  future  prospects,  and 
that  was  all.  Thus  matters  had  stood  between  the  two  families 
up  to  the  period  of  the  present  history. 

Charles  Mordant,  notwithstanding  he  had  received  a  con 
siderable  addition  to  his  allowance  from  his  father,  in  conse 
quence  of  the  pleading  of  his  mother  in  his  behalf,  still  found 
that  his  Expenses  far  outstripped  his  income,  and  he  at  length 
came  to  the  resolution  to  endeavor  to  raise  some  money  upon 
the  security  of  his  future  expectations.  With  this  object  in 
view  he  called  upon  a  lawyer,  who  had  clone  some  rather  dirty 

4  - 


74  THE    CABIN    BOYTS    STORY. 

work  for  him  two  or  three  times  before,  and  asked  his  advice 
how  to  proceed,  guaranteeing  him  an  ample  remuneration,  if  he* 
would  procure  him  an  advance  of  money. 

By  the  suggestion  of  this  crafty  limb  of  the  law,  he  managed 
to  procure  a  copy  of  his  father's  will,  informing  him  also  of  all 
the  circumstances  that  he  was  acquainted  with  relative  to  his 
father's  affairs.  The  lawyer  promised  to  consider  the  matter, 
and  desired  the  young  man  to  call  again  in  a  day  or  two,  and 
he  probably  by  that  time  might  be  able  to  assist  him.  This 
the  youth  agreed  to,  and  at  the  appointed  time  he  waited  upon 
the  lawyer. 

"  You  see,  I  am  true  to  appointment,  Mr.  Harvey,"  said  he, 
gaily.  "  What  can  you  do  for  me  now,  old  fellow  ;  come,  let's 
hear  what  you  have  resolved  upon  ?" 

"I  think  I  may  be  able  to  raise  some  money,  Mr.  Charles,*' 
said  the  lawyer,  "  but  there  is  one  thing  I  wish  to  ask  you 
about  ;  that  little  property  in  New  Jersey  ?  Are  you  sure 
that  belongs  to  your  respected  parent,  or  does  he  only  hold  it 
on  trust  ?r' 

"I  am  sure  he  claims  it  as  his  own  and  receives  the  rents. 
I  have  often  heard  him  chuckle  over  the  rapid  increase  in  its 
value.  Why,  Harvey,  ten  years  ago,  when  my  father  pur 
chased  it,  it  did  not  fetch  $300  a  year.  Now,  it's  worth  a  cool 
$1,000." 

"  Humph  !  Of  whom  did  your  respected  father  purchase 
this  little  property,  sir,  may  I  ask  ?  I  thought  it  once  belonged 
to  Mr.  Miller?" 

"  I  fancy  it  did  once  ;  but  there  was  some  flaw  or  other  in 
the  title  deeds,  and  it  fell  into  the  hands  of  some  Dutchman,  and 
I  believe  my  father  purchased  it  at  a  low  rate  from  him — for 
the  fellow  was  poor  and  ignorant  ;  but  I  never  bother  my  head 
about  these  matters.  What  have  you  done  old  fellow  towards 
raising  the  wind  ;  you  know  there  will  be  plenty  of  money  by 
and  by  to  make  all  fair  and  square  again." 

"  I  have  done  little  as  yet,"  replied  the  lawyer.  "You  see, 
Mr.  Charles,  your  respected  father  may  live  a  long  time  yet, 
and  it  is  difficult  just  now  to  raise  money;  but  call  on  Monday, 
young  sir,  and  I  will  see  what  I  can  do  ;  yes,  I  will  see  what 
I  can  do." 

Charles  Mordant  left  the  office,  inwardly  cursing  the  plod 
ding  notions  of  the  crusty  old  lawyer,  still  believing  that  when 
he  called  again  something  satisfactory  would  be  effected  ; 
"  For,"  said  he  to  himself,  "I  see  plainly  enough  the  old  codger 


THE    CABIN    BOY'S    STORY.  75 

only  wants  me  to  come  out  with  better  offers  to  himself  for  the 
share  he  may  take  in  the  matter." 

No  sooner,  however,  had  the  young  man  reached  the  street, 
than  the  lawyer,  who  had  sat  for  some  moments  engrossed  in 
thought,  started  up,  and  exclaimed,  "  A  pretty  piece  of  infor 
mation  you  have  let  me  into  the  secret  of,  Master  Charles. 
Procure  money  for  you,  indeed.  No,  by  my  faith  ;  but  I'll 
make  the  old  man  plank  down  handsomely  to  me,  or  else,  by 
God,  I'll  spring  a  mine  beneath  his  feet  that  he  little  dreams 
of." 

Charles  Mordant,  on  quitting  the  office  of  the  lawyer,  pro 
ceeded  to  his  father's  counting-house  to  arrange  some  business 
with  the  old  man.  Mrs.  Miller  happened  to  be  there,  and 
Charles  saw  her  for  the  first  time  since  her  daughter's  dis 
appearance.  She  held  out  her  hand  to  him  as  he  entered,  and 
his  attention  was  immediately  arrested  by  a  ring  she  wore  on 
the  third  finger. 

He  let  her  hand  fall  from  his  grasp,  and  shuddered  per 
ceptibly.  Both  the  widow  and  his  father  inquired  if  he  felt 
unwell. 

"  No,"  said  he ;  "  it  was  merely  a  momentary  qualm.  I 
have  been  subject  to  such  attacks  of  late."  And  he  seated 
himself,  until  the  widow  was  about  to  leave,  when,  to  the 
astonishment  of  his  father,  and,  indeed,  of  the  widow  herself, 
he  offered  to  escort  her  home.  She  declined,  but  he  insisted, 
and  they  left  the  counting-house  together. 

"  Mrs.  Miller,"  said  he,  in  the  course  of  conversation,  "  may 
I  ask  where  you  obtained  that  ring  with  the  remarkable  stone 
in  the  centre  ?  I  never  saw  but  one  resembling  it  before,  and 
then  it  was  on  the  finger  of  an  intimate  friend.  Excuse  me 
for  the  seeming  rudeness  of  the  question,  but  the  ring  attracted 
my  notice  the  moment  I  saw  it." 

"  Alas  !"  replied  the  widow,  "  I  fear  that  the  ring  is  the 
only  memento  of  the  kind  I  have  left  of  my  poor,  unfortunate 
Jane." 

"  Pardon  me  for  recalling  such  painful  recollections,"  said 
the  young  man.  "  Had  I  known  the  circumstances,  I  would 
not  have  asked  the  question." 

He  left  the  widow  on  board  the  Jersey  ferry-boat,  and 
walked  towards  the  family  residence. 

"  Good  Heavens  !"  said  he,  half  aloud,  after  he  had  walked 
for  some  minutes,  deeply  absorbed  in  thought  ;  "  can  it  be  pos 
sible  that  there  are  two  rings  of  such  very  peculiar  appearance  ? 


76  THE    CABIN    BOY'S    STORY. 

It  may  be,  nay,  it  must  be,  the  case.     I  am  a  fool  to  trouble 
myself  about  the  matter." 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

Which  introduces  the  reader  to  Zuleika's  abode  on  the  Island  of  Anna- 
bon — Interview  between  Captain  Seymour,  King  Kettle,  and  the 
Loango  chiefs — The  Yunga  Jagos  woman  and  her  children — The 
infants  cast  to  the  lions  in  the  caaebrake. 

IN  the  preceding  chapter  we  left  Henry  Davis  in  the  pre 
sence  of  the  beautiful  original  of  the  portrait  that  had  so  fas 
cinated  his  gaze  in  the  cabin,  on  the  occasion  of  his  taking  up 
the  locket  from  -off  the  sofa. 

"What  a  charming  present!  How  handsome  it  is!  How 
like  my  husband!  It  was  what  I  wished  to  possess  when  I 
last  parted  from  him.  How  kind  of  him  to  think  of  me  when 
he  is  so  far,  oh,  so  very  far  away,"  exclaimed  the  lady,  in 
Spanish,  as  she  gazed  with  admiration  upon  the  beautifully 
executed  miniature. 

Harry  did  not  understand  her  (although  he  had,  through 
hearing  some  of  the  sailors  who  spoke  Spanish,  occasionally 
talking  to  each  other  in  that  language,  became  sufficiently  fa 
miliar  with  several  expressions  to  gather  the  meaning  of  her 
words,  especially  when  coupled  with  the  animated  expression 
of  her  features),  had  he  really  heard  her  speak  ;  but  a  fit  of 
abstraction,  such  as  he  had  experienced  in  the  cabin  on  the 
occasion  above  alluded  to,  had  again  seized  the  boy,  and  he 
stood  still  as  a  statue,  gazing  earnestly  upon  the  young  girl, 
who,  although  she  called  Captain  Seymour  her  husband,  could 
not  have  numbered  more  than  sixteen  summers.  On  her  part, 
the  lady  was  so  occupied  with  the  picture  that  she  seemed  to 
have  forgotten  the  presence  of  the  youth  ;  both  were  com 
pletely  occupied  with  their  own  thoughts,  when  Captain  Sey 
mour,  having  completed  his  search  in  the  carpet  bag,  re-entered 
the  apartment,  bearing  several  other  costly  trinkets  in  his  hands. 

He  stood  for  some  moments,  looking  at  the  boy  and  at  the 
young  female,  and  then  he  gave  way  to  a  peal  of  laughter, 
which  rung  merrily  through  the  room. 

"  Oh  Harry,  Harry,"  said  he  at  last,  "  I  see  you  are  not 
inclined  to  take  my  warning.  I  shall  positively  become  jealous. 
Why,  I  declare  the  boy  is  blushing  like  a  girl,"  he  continued, 


77 

as  Harry,  recalled  to  himself  by  the  captain's  voice,  reddened 
through  his  clear  olive  skin  to  the  color  of  crimson.  "  But  I 
need  not  be  jealous  of  thee,  mi  tesora"  added  he,  seating  him 
self  on  the  sofa  beside  the  girl,  and  fondly  placing  his  arm 
around  her  waist,  and  addressing  her  in  words  of  endearment, 
as  he  placed  gift  after  gift  in  her  lap. 

"  You  can  go  and  amuse  yourself  in  the  garden,  Harry,"  he 
said  to  the  boy,  who  left  the  room,  still  moving  as  if  mechani 
cally,  scarcely  seeming  to  know  what  he  was  doing. 

"  What  a  handsome  boy,"  said  the  young  girl,  after  Harry 
had  gone  out  and  closed  the  door. 

"  Yes,  the  boy  is  good  looking  enough — pretty  enough  for  a 
girl,  Zuleika." 

"  And  you  will  remain  a  long  time  with  me  ?  It  is  so  long 
since  I  have  seen  you,  caro  mio,"  murmured  the  girl,  after  some 
conversation  had  passed  between  her  and  Seymour. 

"  Nay,  dearest,  not  long — willingly  would  I  stay  with  you 
altogether;  but  I  cannot.  I  hope  the  day  will  come  when  we 
shall  reside  constantly  together;  two  or  three  more  voyages, 
and  then  I  shall  quit  the  sea,  and  nothing  but  death  shall 
separate  us." 

The  countenance  of  the  young  female  assumed  a  melancholy 
aspect,  as  she  replied — 

"  Oh,  I  am  very  sad,  dear  George,  when  you  are  absent 
from  me,  and  so  long  absent.  I  have  nobody  here  to  speak 
to — nobody  but  the  negroes;  they  are  kind;  I  love  them;  but 
I  cannot  be  happy  when  you  are  away  from  me." 

"  And  yet  this  is  a  pretty  spot,  and  you  have  your  guitar 
and  your  books,  and  everything  to  make  you  happy,  Zuleika?" 

"  Everything  but  you,  dearest;  and  were  you  here  always, 
I  could  well  sacrifice  all  the  rest." 

There  was  such  a  tone  of  gentleness  and  sadness  in  the  young 
girl's  voice,  such  an  expression  of  childlike,  trustful,  and  con 
fiding  love  in  her  large,  soft,  dark  eyes,  as  she  gazed  up  in  the 
captain's  face,  and  nestled  close  to  him,  as  though  she  feared 
that  he  would  even  now  slip  away  from  her,  or  as  if  she  could 
still  scarcely  realize  the  happiness  that  his  visit  had  brought 
to  her  heart,  that  it  was  no  wonder  that  Captain  Seymour 
caught  her  in  his  arms  and  covered  her  with  caresses,  and 
gazed  upon  her  with  a  look  of  fondness — such  as  a  father 
would  bestow  upon  a  child,  mingled  with  the  intense  affection 
of  a  husband — a  lover  still. 


80  THE    CABIN    BOY'S    STORY. 

"Oh,  he  will  soon  learn,  and  no  doubt  you  will  get  along 
very  well  together,"  answered  the  captain,  laughing.  Harry 
is  a  good  and  trusty  lad,  and  admires  you  exceedingly,  and  I 
have  no  doubt  will  learn  either  Spanish  or  Greek  from  your 
lips.  I  know  it  would  not  take  me  long  to  learn  the  latter,  if 
you  were  my  teacher,  though  now  I  have  forgotten  what  little 
I  once  knew." 

Thus  matters  were  planned.  Captain  Seymour  was  glad 
that  he  had  thought  of  something  to  relieve  in  some  measure, 
the  monotony  of  Zuleika's  life,  and  the  next  day  he  told  Harry 
of  the  arrangement. 

The  lad  seemed  pleased  with  the  idea,  though  he  hardly  ex 
pressed  any  satisfaction  beyond  a  mere  acquiescence  in  the  ar 
rangement. 

Captain  Seymour  remained  a  week  on  the  island  ;  his  boat's 
crew  enjoying  themselves  and  making  the  most  of  the  holiday, 
for  it  was  little  they  saw  of  their  captain,  whose  whole  time 
was  engrossed  by  Zuleika  ;  but,  at  the  expiration  of  that 
period,  the  pinnace  was  got  ready  to  return  to  the  coast,  and 
the  captain  bade  Zuleika  a  tender,  although  brief,  farewell, 
reiterating  his  promise  to  return  in  a  month  or  six  weeks  at  the 
farthest  ;  and  leaving  Harry,  according  to  arrangement,  to 
bear  the  young  girl  company  until  his  return. 

A  few  days  after  this,  we  again  find  Captain  Seymour  on 
board  the  Albatross  in  Majumba  Bay.  During  his  brief 
absence  every  preparation  had  been  made  for  the  reception  of 
the  slaves — the  coopers  had  been  employed  in  forming  the 
bundles  of  shakings  into  water-casks,  and  a  portion  of  the  crew 
were  still  engaged  in  filling  .  the  new  casks  with  water,  a  task 
of  no  slight  difficulty,  since  the  boats  had  to  toil  several  miles 
up  the  river  before  the  water  could  be  procured  sufficiently 
fresh  and  pure.  Other  gangs  of  sailors,  assisted  by  natives, 
were  busied  taking  in  stores  of  Indian  corn,  plantains,  and  sweet 
potatoes;  in  fact,  everybody  was  as  busy  as  possible.  As  yet, 
but  a  small  portion  of  the  expected  slaves  had  arrived,  and 
these  had  been  so  hardly  driven  from  the  depot  at  Quaddah, 
that  it  was  found  impossible  to  take  them  on  board  until  they 
had  been  allowed  some  clays  to  recruit  their  exhausted  strength, 
to  anoint  and  bathe  their  blistered  feet  and  skins,  and  to  heal 
the  sores  made  by  the  lashes  of  the  slave-drivers.  They  were 
of  all  ages  and  both  sexes  ;  but,  altogether,  such  a  sorry-look 
ing  set,,  that  Captain  Seymour  remonstrated  sharply  with  King 
Kettle,  assuring  him  that  if  the  remaining  portion  were  not  in 


THE    CABIN    BOY  S    STORY.  81 

better  condition,  he  should  refuse  to  take  them  on  board.  He 
resolved  to  go  himself  to  Quaddah,  and  ascertain  the  number 
and  condition  of  the  slaves  said  to  be  in  readiness  for  him; 
but,  previously,  he  made  a  selection  amongst  those  who  had 
arrived,  of  such  as  he  deemed  capable  of  making  the  voyage, 
resolving  to  leave  the  remainder  (ineligibles)  on  King  Kettle's 
hands.  There  were  about  a  hundred  in  all,  and  of  these  at 
least  one-third  were  aged  persons,  whom  the  captain  at  once 
and  firmly  rejected,  despite  the  remonstrances  of  the  chiefs,  who 
said  that  they  had  been  at  great  expense  in  procuring  them  as 
they  were,  and  that  they  would  be  useless  to  them,  as  they 
were  only  fit  to  "  eat  rice  and  plantain — very  mooch — and  to 
sleep." 

"  And  what  matters  that  to  me  ?"  asked  the  captain.  "  Do 
you  suppose  I  want  a  parcel  of  useless  cattle,  only  fit  as  you  say 
yourself  to  *  eat  rice  Very  much/  No,  no,  Kettle — and  you 
too,  Gumbo  ;"  addressing  the  chief  next  in  rank,  "  I  must  have 
a  better  set  than  those,  or  else  I  shall  weigh  anchor  and  be  off 
to  Cabenda — and  see  what  King  Jacko  has  got  to  dispose  of." 
"  King  Jacko — very  much  bad  man,  cheat  too  much — no 
makee  good  bargain — never  mind,  es  todos,"  replied  King 
Kettle. 

"  Very  well,  then,  see  that  you  don't  cheat  me.  I  shall  start 
for  Quaddah  to-morrow  ;  meanwhile,  see  if  you  can't  bring  this 
lot  round  a  little  ;  allow  them  exercise — give  them  plenty  of  rice, 
and  let  them  bathe  every  day — by  that  means  they  may  be  ren 
dered  worth  something.  You  must  give  the  children  to  some 
of  your  own  women  to  nurse  till  the  mothers  get  strong — as 
to  the  batch  of  old  ones  there,  you  must  dispose  of  them  as  you 
best  can.  I  shall  have  nothing  to  do  with  them.  We  shall 
have  to  throw  quite  enough  overboard  before  we  get  to  Cuba, 
under  any  circumstances  ;  the  Albatross  can't  be  burdened  with 
such  a  lot  of  superannuated  carrion." 

"  Tambien.  Entiendo"  replied  King  Kettle,  who  saw  that  it 
was  useless  to  remonstrate. 

The  pinnace  was  again  got  in  readiness,  this  time  to  ascend 
the  river,  and  taking  Mr.  Tolcroft  and  a  dozen  men  with  him, 
the  captain  took  his  departure  on  the  following  morning.  The 
land  on  the  coast  from  Loando  to  Majumba,  although  very  fer 
tile,  is  flat  and  swampy — the  river,  one  of  the  branches  of  the 
Zaire,  running  for  several  miles  through  a  similarly  flat,  but 
tolerably  well  cultivated  country.  At  intervals  there  were 
groups  of  the  wine  palm  tree  and  the  lofty  boabid,  and  groves 


82 

of  limes,  papaws  and  plantains  ;  but  the  land  is  mainly  occupied 
with  fields  of  Indian  corn,  beans,  cabbages,  and  manioc — 
amongst  which  are  scattered,  at  distant  intervals,  native  huts 
grouped  two  or  three  together  within  the  customary  corn  fence, 
reaching  about  ten  feet  high  and  keeping  the  occupants  shelter 
ed  from  the  sun  ;  while  the  uncultivated  parts,  which,  in  the 
roost  fertile  districts  are  covered  with  tall  rank  grass,  atford 
shelter,  to  a  variety  of  wild  beasts — amongst  which  there  are 
numerous  lions,  and  to  myriads  of  poisonous  reptiles.  There 
was  nothing,  therefore,  to  obstruct  the  view  of  the  bay  for  seve 
ral  miles  above  the  mouth  of  the  river. 

The  river  is  of  tolerable  width,  but  is  so  overspread  with  rank 
weeds  and  trunks  of  fallen  trees  that  the  progress  of  a  boat  is 
necessarily  slow,  and  though  the  wind  blew  fresh  from  off  the 
sea,  and  all  sail  was  set  on  the  pinnace,  the  men  had  enough  to 
do  with  their  oars  and  poles  and  boat-hooks,  to  keep  the  course 
clear  of  the  numerous  obstacles.  In  some  places,  even  where 
the  river  was  more  than  forty  feet  in  width  between  the  banks, 
the  rank  herbage  had  grown  out,  partially  buoyed  up  by  the 
water,  to  a  distance  of  ten  or  fifteen  feet  on  either  side,  scarcely 
leaving  space  for  the  boat  to  pass  between  it,  and  occasionally 
its  progress  was  facilitated  by  tugging  it  along  by  the  branches. 

At  length  they  came  to  a  sharp  bend,  with  low  marshy  banks, 
the  marsh  extending  almost  to  the  sea-shore,  and  giving  them 
an  uninterrupted  view  of  the  town  and  coast,  for  although  they 
had  sailed  and  tugged  several  miles,  the  river  was  so  tortuous 
and  winding,  and  the  bend  so  abrupt  and  inclining  to  seaward, 
that  they  were  still  but  a  short  distance,  comparatively,  from 
the  shore.  Mr.  Tolcroft  was  at  the  helm  and  Captain  Seymour 
was  standing  in  the  stern  sheets  looking  towards  the  coast  and 
occasionally  raising  his  spy-glass  to  his  eye  and  scanning  his 
ship  as  she  lay  at  anchor  in  the  bay. 

"  Hallo  !  what  the  mischiefs  up  now?"  exclaimed  he,  lower 
ing  his  glass  and  addressing  the  mate.  "  Give  me  the  helm, 
and  take  the  glass,  Mr.  Tolcroft  ;  they  surely  can't  be  putting 
the  slaves  on  board  already.  Mr.  Allan  would  never  dare  to 
disobey  my  orders,  and  yet  it  appears  to  me  that  those  three 
canoes  are  full  of  black  figures." 

The  mate,  thus  addressed,  gave  the  helm  to  his  commander, 
and  giving  his  everlasting  quid  a  roll  between  his  teeth  and  his 
cheek,  he  raised  the  glass  to  his  eye  and  peered  long  and  ear 
nestly  in  the  direction  of  the  bay. 

"  What  do  you  make  of  it  ?"  asked  the  captain. 


The  mate  lowered  his  glass,  and  chuckled  in  an  under-tone, 
as  though  he  were  laughing  internally — the  nearest  approach  to 
merriment  he  ever  showed. 

"  I  guess  Cap'n  Seymour  as  King  Kettle  is  expending  the  old 
?uns,"  said  he.  "  Yes,  by  gum  !  there  go  the  woolly  heads — 
one,  two,  three,  four  on  'em  overboard  from  the  foremost  canoe 
— and  there  goes  a  batch  from  the  second  one.  They  eat  very 
mooch  rice,"  he  added,  "  and  so  old  Kettle  thinks  it  just  as 
well  the  sharks  should  eat  them  afore  they  breeds  a  famine," 
and  again  he  gave  vent  to  the  peculiar  chuckle  until  his -frame 
appeared  to  shake  with  suppressed  merriment.  "  He's  a  'tarnal 
old  cuss,  that  Kettle,  sure/y,"  he  exclaimed,  as  he  handed 
the  spy-glass  back  to  the  captain,  and  again  took  the  helm. 

The  captain  raised  the  glass  again. 

"  It  is  so,  I  declare,"  said  he  ;  "  well,  poor  devils  !  It  can't 
be  helped — they'd  coine  to  that  at  last,  and  the  sooner,  perhaps 
the  better  for  themselves.  By  Jove  1  I  believe  the  whole 
twenty-five  are  overboard  now,  and  he  must  have  tied  stones  to 
their  legs,  for  they  have  all  sunk — no,  there  are  two  black 
specks  striking  out  for  the  land,  and  the  canoe  is  turned  in  chase 
of  them  •  they  must  have  got  clear  of  the  weights  attached  to 
them.  What  will  Kettle  do  now,  I  wonder  ?"  He  kept  the 
glass  to  his  eye  a  minute  longer,  and  then  added — "  By  Heav 
en  !  the  old  scamp  is  beating  out  their  brains  with  the  paddles 
— Faugh  !"  and  with  a  slight  shudder,  he  lowered  the  glass  and 
turned  away  his  head. 

"  Sich  things  can't  be  avided  in  our  business,"  said  Tolcroft, 
coolly;  "for  my  part,  I'm  used  to  sich  sights  now,  and  thinks 
nothin'  on  'em." 

"  Ugh!"  exclaimed  the  captain,  "  I  think  nothing  of  blowing 
out  a  man's  brains  when  my  blood  is  up,  or  in  a  fair  fight;  but 
I  can't  abide  such  sights  as  these." 

"  You  were  allers  too  soft  about  them  7ere  matters,  Cap'n," 
responded  Tolcroft.  "  Lor  bless  you,  I  thinks  nothin'  on  it 
now — no  more  does  most  as  has  followed  the  trade  for  any 
length  of  time.  I  sailed  one  v'yage  with  Cap'n  Junot ;  and 
tho'  I  can't  say  much  for  the  Frenchman's  seamanship,  or  for 
the  discij?/i?2£  of  his  craft,  I  must  give  him  the  credit  to  say, 
that  he  took  them  'ere  indispensable  matters  as  coolly  as  pos 
sible,  It  was  quite  a  credit  to  his  ^/osophy  ;  for  arter  all, 
them  niggers  bean't  o'  the  same  flesh  and  blood  as  other  hu 
mans;  and  I  doubt,  for  the  matter  o'  that,  if  they  be  of  the 
same  account,  humanly  speaking,  as  a  good  dog — more  'spe- 


84  THE    CABIN    BOY?S    STORY. 

cially  a  Newfunlan',  or  any  o7  them  larger  and  more  val'ablc 
breeds." 

The  captain  did  not  reply  to  the  philosophical  argument  of 
his  mate;  he  had  probably  not  listened  to  it,  or  had  forgotten 
all  about  the  subject,  for  he  had  seated  himself  in  the  stern 
sheets,  and  was  deeply  absorbed  in  thought.  It  took  the  pin 
nace,  with  the  utmost  exertion  on  the  part  of  the  crew,  nearly 
a  week  to  reach  the  town  of  Quaddah,  which  was  a  collection 
of  several  hundred  negro  huts,  and  contained  perhaps  six  or 
seven  thousand  inhabitants.  It  was  in  fact  larger  than  Loan- 
do,  the  sea-board  capital  of  the  country,  and  was  a  place  of 
considerable  traffic  with  the  natives  of  the  interior,  in  conse 
quence  of  its  being  the  chief  depot  of  the  slaves  that  were 
shipped  to  the  Loango  coast.  The  town  contained,  besides  the 
huts  already  mentioned,  several  long  low  huts  of  large  dimen 
sions,  which  were  appropriated  to  the  free  use  of  stranger 
merchants,  who  brought  down  from  the  interior  batches  of 
slaves  to  dispose  of  to  King  Kettle  and  his  agents — and  the 
slave  depot  was  an  immense  hut  of  similar  construction,  sur 
rounded  with  a  strong  reed  fence,  over  which  gigantic  negroes 
were  posted  as  guards  to  prevent  the  escape  of  the  slaves, 
which,  however,  was  scarcely  possible,  since  all  but  the  child 
ren,  or  very  aged  persons,  were  manacled  with  tough  green 
withes,  which  in  some  instances  were  tied  so  tight  as  to  cut 
deep  into  the  flesh  of  the  unhappy  captives;  besides,  they  did 
not  betray  any  signs  of  thinking  of  escape  ;  they  seemed  to 
have  given  themselves  up  to  hopeless  despair.  Slaves  to  the 
number  of  two  hundred  were  here  collected,  and  the  mafooka, 
or  governor  of  the  town,  said  that  several  hundred  more  were 
on  their  way  from  the  interior.  Those  collected,  although  less 
worn  out  with  fatigue  than  the  division  which  had  been  driven 
by  forced  marches  to  Majumba,  were  of  much  the  same  class. 
They  were  all  entirely  naked,  and  of  all  ages  and  both  sexes. 
They  were  divided  into  gangs,  the  owners  of  each  gang  having 
charge  over  their  own  property,  which,  on  the  arrival  of  Cap 
tain  Seymour,  they  brought  out  of  the  block-house  and  paraded 
for  sale.  The  countenances  of  each  and  all  wore  an  expression 
of  stolid  indifference,  varied  with  regard  to  some  by  an  expres 
sion  of  surprise  at  the  novelty  of  their  situation.  They  all 
bore,  more  or  less,  the  marks  of  ill-usage,  their  flesh  being 
covered  with  blue  wales  raised  by  the  lash,  which  was  carried 
in  the  hands  of  the  slave-dealers,  and  applied,  as  it  seemed,  for 
mere  amusement,  or  from  the  force  of  habit,  and  always  in  a 


THE  CABIN  BOY'S  STORVT.  85 

knowing  style,  when  it  was  necessary  to  show  off  the  paces,  or 
to  give  proof  of  the  activity  of  a  particular  slave,  who  had  at 
tracted  the  notice  of  a  dealer. 

One  only  amongst  all  the  assembled  group  showed  traces  of 
emotion  ;  she  was  weeping  bitterly,  but  silently,  and  had 
crouched  into  a  corner  of  one  of  the  block  houses  with  the  ob 
ject,  apparently,  of  escaping  notice,  and  of  indulging  in  her 
grief. 

"  What's  that  young  woman  sitting  weeping  there  in  the 
corner  ?"  said  Captain  Seymour,  addressing  the  slave  dealer, 
through  the  medium  of  the  Mafooka,  who  spoke  a  little  Spanish. 

The  reply  was  the  sharp  application  of  the  whip  to  the 
naked  body  of  the  young  woman,  the  pain  causing  her  to 
spring  to  her  feet,  shrinking  with  anguish. 

"  What  is  the  matter  with  her  ?  She  is  a  handsome  negress 
as  ever  I  clapped  eyes  upon,"  said  the  captain,  repeating  his 
question. 

"  By  gum  !  she's  a  spry  looking  lass,"  added  Mr.  Tolcroft. 

"  She  has  lost  her  children,  the  slave  dealer  tells  me,"  re 
plied  the  Mafooka.  "  She  come  a  long  way  from  the  interior, 
and  had  twin  children  at  the  breast  when  Yoorga  purchased 
her.  He  gave  a  good  price  for  her  to  the  chief  of  her  tribe, 
Avhose  wife  she  was,  and  he  was  obliged  to  take  the  children, 
too,  though  they  were  too  yonng  to  be  of  any  use  to  him. 
The  chief  would  not  have  sold  her,  only  his  principal  wife  was 
jealous  of  her  charms.  You  see,  senor  Capitano,  she  is  a  hand 
some  girl,  and  her  price  was  two  muskets  and  a  keg  of  rum, 
besides  several  hands  of  tobacco." 

"  And  where  are  her  children?"  asked  Seymour,  in  Spanish. 

"  Senor  Capitano  demands  to  know  where  are  the  children 
of  the  bemba  ?"  exclaimed  the  Mafooka  to  the  slave  dealer,  who 
was  a  great  burly  negro  of  the  Yunga  Jagos  tribe,  and  who 
was  armed  with  a  heavy  thong  of  plaited  buffalo  hide. 

"  Gone  for  food  to  the  lions,"  replied  the  negro,  playfully 
flourishing  his  whip  over  the  shrinking  form  of  the  female  as  he 
spoke.  He  then  entered  into  a  long  explanation  with  the  Ma 
fooka — which  the  latter  subsequently  interpreted  to  the  captain, 
from  which  it  appeared  that  the  woman  had  travelled  nearly  a 
moon's  journey,  and  had  carried  her  children  nearly  the  whole 
way.  She  had  caused  the  slave  dealer  a  great  deal  of  trouble, 
as  her  progress  had  necessarily  been  impeded  by  the  children, 
and  sometimes  a  vigorous  application  of  the  whip  had  been 
necessary — that  it  had  been  fully  applied,  the  poor  creature's 


86  THE    CABIN    BOY'S    STORY 

back  and  arms  and  legs  plainly  testified,  for  they  were  scari 
fied  with  sores,  some  of  them  still  bleeding.  .  "  But,  she  would 
have  died  if  the  children  had  been  taken  from  her,"  continued 
the  negro.  "  At  length,  passing  through  a  cane-brake — a  few 
days  journey  from  Quaddah — two  lions  had  suddenly  rushed 
from  the  the  canes  and  stood  glaring  their  fiery  eyeballs  at  the 
cavalcade  ;  the  negroes  in  charge  succeeded  in  frightening  off  the 
animals,  and  they  fled  to  the  cane-brake,  but  the  woman  and 
her  children  were  in  the  rear,  and  as  they  were  emerging  from 
the  brake,  I  observed  one  of  the  fierce  brutes  creeping  along, 
apparently  for  the  purpose  of  making  a  spring  at  the  mother  and 
her  infants. 

"  I  fired  my  musket  at  the  beast,"  added  the  negro,  "  and 
though  he  was  not  hit,  the  lion  skulked  into  the  cane-brake,  and 
then  I  was  angry  with  the  woman  and  urged  her  forward  to 
join  the  rest  of  the  gang  ;  the  children  encumbered  her.  I  had 
had  trouble  enough  with  them.  I  struck  her  with  the  whip, 
and  tore  the  infants  from  her — throwing  them  into  the  path 
beside  the  cane-brake — and  then  dragged  the  mother  to  the  rest 
of  the  gang.  She  is  weeping  for  her  children — it  is  not  uncom 
mon — that's  all." 

Captain  Seymour  made  arrangements  for  the  purchase  and 
transportation  to  Majumba,  of  one  hundred  slaves,  including 
among  them  the  Yunga  Jagos  woman,  and  then  returned  to  the 
coast.  The  cargo  arrived  a  few  days  after  he  had  reached  the 
port,  and  the  fresh  arrivals  were  placed  with  those  previously 
picked  out  from  the  lot  that  King  Kettle  had  brought  down, 
until  the  day  of  the  departure — it  being  desirable  that  they 
should  remain  ashore  as  long  as  possible,  so  as  to  be  in  pretty 
good  condition  when  shipped. 

All  promising  to  be  in  readiness  in  a  fortnight,  Captain  Sey 
mour  prepared  to  pay  his  promised  second  visit  to  the  Island  of 
Annabon,  and  to  the  fair  recluse  of  that  beautiful  Island,  the 
lovely  Zuleika.  As,  however,  he  was  on  the  point  of  setting 
out,  a  vessel  was  seen  in  the  offing,  which  the  captain  soon  re 
cognized  as  the  Dolphin,  Captain  Junot.  As  she  drew  nearer, 
it  was  perceptible  that  she  had  met  with  severe  usage  some  way 
or  other,  for  her  top-gallant  masts  had  been  carried  away,  and 
her  progress  was  so  impeded  for  want  of  sail,  that  she  stood 
very  slowly  into  the  bay.  The  pinnace  was  just  under  sail 
when  the  Dolphin  was  espied,  arid  Captain  Seymour  resolved  to 
go  on  board  of  her  and  learn  what  ill  luck  had  befallen  her. 


THE    CABIN    BOY'S    ST011Y.  87 


CHAPTER  IX. 

The  Birth  and  Parentage  of  Seymour — His  first  meeting  with  Zuleika 
in  the  Slave  Market  at  Constantinople — He  resolves  to  Educate  and 
then  to  Marry  the  Greek  Girl— The  Deception  of  Antorine  Dichet  and 
the  Consequences  thereof— Seymour  engages  in  the  Slave  Trade- 
Marries  Zuleika  and  finds  her  a  secluded  Home  on  the  Island  of 
Annabon. 

WE  will,  in  the  present  chapter,  retrace  our  steps,  going 
back  indeed  to  a  period  anterior  to  the  date  of  the  commence 
ment  of  our  story. 

Captain  Seymour,  at  the  period  that  he  was  first  introduced  to 
the  reader,  was  a  young  man  of  about  six  or  seven  and  twenty 
years  of  age.  We  now  propose  to  give  a  brief  history  of  his 
life,  since  such  is  necessary  for  the  better  comprehension  of  our 

narrative.  He  was  a  native  of  one  of  the  Southern  States 

Virginia,  we  believe — but  from  his  early  childhood  until  he  had 
passed  his  twentieth  year,  his  life  had  been  spent  in  Europe. 
His  father  was  an  Englishman,  who  had  left  his  native 
land  while  still  a  mere  child,  the  grandfather  of  Seymour  having 
emigrated  to  the  United  States  ;  not  urged  thereto  by  poverty, 
or  the  hope  of  bettering  his  condition  by  directing  his  energies 
in  a  field  less  stocked  with  laborers,  as  is  generally  the  case 
with  emigrants,  for  he  was  a  man  of  great  wealth,  and  one  who 
boasted  his  descent  from  a  noble  English  family,  being  no 
other  than  that  of  Seymour,  whose  head  was  the  well-known 
first  proud  Duke  of  Somerset. 

Hot-brained  and  headstrong  ;  a  man  of  desperate  and  unbri 
dled  passions,  to  the  indulgence  of  which  his  great  wealth  allow 
ed  free  scope,  he  had  entered  the  army  at  an  early  period  of  life 
—as  affording  a  fair  field  for  the  dashing,  daring  energy  of  his 
character.  There  he  had  rapidly  risen  to  the  rank  of  Colonel  ; 
when,  satisfied  with  active  service,  at  the  age  of  thirty-five,  he 
had  married  a  young  lady  every  way  his  equal  in  birth  and  for 
tune,  who  bore  him  one  son,  the  father  of  our  present  hero. 
The  poor  lady  was,  however,  sadly  neglected  by  her  dissolute 
husband,  and  she  died  soon  after  she  had  given  birth  to  her  son; 
it  was  rumored  at  the  time  that  she  died  heart-broken,  in  con 
sequence  of  her  husband's  cruelty  and  neglect  and  her  know 
ledge  of  his  flagrant  infidelity.  He  pursued  his  course  of  extra- 


88 

vagance  and  dissipation  unchecked,  until  his  fortieth  year,  when 
he  was  detected  in  a  scandalous  intrigue  with  the  handsome 
wife  of  a  former  brother  officer.  The  consequence  was  that  he 
received  a  challenge  from  the  outraged  husband,  who  fell  mor 
tally  wounded  at  the  first  shot  from  his  vile  antagonist.  There 
were  rumors  at  the  time  that  foul  play  had  taken  place,  and 
that  the  ball  had  been  abstracted  from  the  pistol  of  the  Colo 
nel's  antagonist,  he  having  bribed  the  officer's  second,  who  was 
a  creature  of  his  own.  The  truth  was  never  known;  nor  is  it 
a  pleasant  task  to  pry  into  such  histories  as  these  ;  suffice  it  to 
say,  that  through  the  power  of  his  own  wealth  and  the  influence 
of  his  wealthy  connections,  the  affair  was  hushed  up,  on  the 
condition,  exacted  on  the  part  of  his  relatives,  that  he  should 
expatriate  himself,  and  that  all  future  relationship  should  on 
their  part  be  disowned. 

This  was  a  matter  of  little  consequence  to  Colonel  Seymour, 
who  cared  little  for  family  ties,  so  long  as  he  had  unbounded 
wealth  at  his  command  to  enable  him  to  continue — he  cared 
not  where — the  career  of  dissipation  that  had  become  habitual 
to  him.  He  converted  his  wealth  into  cash,  and  with  the 
partner  of  his  guilt,  the  widow  of  the  murdered  officer, 
he  came  to  America.  Here  he  pursued  a  similar  course 
of  life  for  several  years,  but  he  died  prematurely  old, 
shortly  after  his  guilty  partner,  leaving  his  son  Alfred,  the 
father  of  our  hero,  full  and  perfect  possession  of  his  immense 
wealth;  although  his  extravagance  and  his  improvidence  and 
neglect  to  a  still  greater  degree  had  sadly  impaired  it. 

Brought  up  under  such  instructors,  it  was  no  wonder  that 
the  son  had  inherited  the  bad  passions,  and  been  trained  to 
the  indulgence  of  the  same  evil  propensities,  as  had  marked  his 
father.  He,  however,  partially  retrieved  his  character,  by 
falling  in  love  with  a  beautiful  and  well-born  French  lady,  who 
had  come  out  from  Paris  to  reside  with  her  guardian  in  Louis 
iana,  and,  after  a  brief  courtship,  he  married  her,  and  soon 
after  the  birth  of  his  son  George — he,  at  his  wife's  request, 
went  to  reside  permanently  in  the  city  of  Paris. 

There  our  hero  was  educated;  and  from  his  earliest  youth, 
he  displayed  an  aptitude  for  study  that  promised  one  day  to 
enable  him  to  obtain  a  position  of  eminence  ;  for  wealth  to  help 
him  on,  step  by  step,  he  apparently  already  possessed.  He 
possessed  many  of  the  unprincipled  traits  of  his  father's  char 
acter  ;  but  these  were  so  softened  down  and  kept  in  subjection 
by  his  mother,  and  her  gentle  attributes  were  seemingly  so 


69 

blended  in  his  disposition,  that  his  more  impetuous  passions  only 
served  to  give  a  dashing,  lively  semblance  to  his  disposition — 
befitting  a  youth  of  good  expectations,  and  of  an  exterior  of 
remarkable  beauty  and  elegance.  His  father  died  when  he  was 
a  mere  child,  leaving  his  son  the  sole  heir  to  his  property  on 
the  death  of  his  mother  ;  subjected  only,  should  she  die  while 
he  was  still  a  minor,  to  the  guardianship  of  such  executors  as 
he  should  appoint.  Madame  Seymour  was  a  woman  of  very 
delicate  frame,  and  her  death  occurred  about  three  years  after 
the  decease  of  her  husband,  when  George  was  about  fourteen 
years  of  age.  She  bequeathed  her  only  beloved  child  to  the 
care  of  a  lawyer  in  whom  she  had  unbounded  confidence,  and 
who,  since  her  husband's  death,  had  managed  her  affairs. 

George,  at  the  period  of  this  occurrence,  was  at  school  at 
Dijon,  where  he  had  given  promise  already  of  great  scholastic 
attainments.  He  was  deeply  grieved  at  the  death  of  his 
mother,  to  whom  he  was  tenderly  attached.  He  returned  to 
Paris  to  attend  the  funeral,  and  to  submit  himself  to  the 
regulations  of  his  guardian,  Monsieur  Dichet.  He  had  always 
had  an  ample  allowance  from  his  mother,  and  Monsieur  Dichet, 
after  the  funeral  had  taken  place,  told  him  that  he  intended  to 
increase  it  considerably  ;  that  his  mother  had  left  him  the  heir 
of  great  wealth,  and  that  it  was  but  right  that  he  should  enjoy 
it  while  he  was  young.  He  also  took  every  means  to  lead  the 
impulsive  lad  into  every  sort  of  temptation  ;  for,  notwithstand 
ing  the  good  opinion  Madame  Seymour  had  entertained  of  him, 
he  was  a  man  utterly  devoid  of  principle,  and  the  last  person 
she  would  have  chosen,  had  she  known  his  real  character,  to  be 
the  guide  and  guardian  of  her  beloved  and  orphaned  child. 
M.  Dichet  had  his  own  ends  to  serve.  We  shall  see  how  he 
carried  out  his  plans. 

George,  eventually,  after  having  been  permitted  to  run  loose 
amidst  all  the  profligacy  of  the  most  profligate  capital  in  the 
world,  at  an  age  when  he  most  required  the  care  of  a  vigilant 
preceptor  and  adviser,  went  back  to  school ;  but  he  was  no 
longer  the  careful,  indefatigable  student  he  had  hitherto  been. 
He  could  not  put  up  with  the  restraints  of  scholastic  discipline; 
and  now,  having  an  abundance  of  money  at  his  disposal,  he 
was  able  to  purchase  over  plenty  of  so-called  friends,  willing 
to  encourage  him  in  setting  his  tutors  at  defiance,  and,  indeed, 
in  undermining  the  principles  of  his  fellow-students.  Still,  at 
times,  the  recollections  of  his  mother  would  recall  him  to  his 
senses,  and,  perhaps  for  weeks,  he  would  devote  himself  to 


90  THE  CABIN  BOY'S  STORY. 

study  with  as  great  an  intensity  as  ever  ;  but,  by-and-by,  iill 
would  be  forgotten  again,  and  he  would  break  out  into  greater 
dissipations  than  before,  until,  at  length,  although  on  account, 
of  his  evident  talents  and  his  wealth,  his  preceptors  looked 
upon  his  failings  with  much  greater  leniency  than  they  would 
have  done  upon  those  of  his  fellows. 

At  last,  his  conduct  became  so  outrageous — so  devoid  of  all 
decency — that  he  was  formally  expelled  from  the  college. 
He  wrote  to  his  guardian,  saying  that  he  should  not  return  to 
Paris,  for  he  intended  to  travel,  and  he  desired  a  still  greater 
augmentation  of  his  allowance.  This  was  readily  granted,  and 
his  conduct  even  approved  of  by  his  rascally  guardian,  who 
wrote  that  it  could  not  be  expected  that  a  young  man  of  such 
splendid  expectations  should  confine  himself  to  the  rigorous 
regulations  of  a  college  ;  and  he  promised  to  supply  him  with 
what  funds  he  required.  In  company,  therefore,  with  one  of 
the  tutors  of  the  college — a  man  of  depraved  mind — who  had 
watched  (knowing  his  wealth)  the  reckless  career  of  the  young- 
man,  and  who  had  gained  a  considerable  ascendancy  over  him, 
although,  even  at  this  early  age  (he  was  but  fifteen,  although 
tall  and  manly  enough  in  appearance  to  pass  for  eighteen  or 
twenty)  George  Seymour  would  submit  himself  to  no  person's 
guidance,  he  started  upon  a  tour  through  Germany,  which  was 
subsequently  extended  into  Turkey  and  Asia  Minor. 

Had  it  not  been  for  the  companionship  of  the  worthless  tutor, 
George  might  still  have  been  saved,  but  he  urged  him  on  to 
every  extravagance,  and  ridiculed  anything  like  a  return  to 
the  path  of  rectitude. 

The  very  spirit  of  adventure,  which  the  youth  possessed,  and 
which  is  always  allied  to  a  certain  nobility  of  soul,  might,  we 
repeat,  have  otherwise  led  him  to  take  delight  in  more  enno 
bling  pursuits  than  those  he  followed  under  the  direction  of  his 
vile  companion. 

Thus  two  years  passed  away,  George,  during  that  period, 
having  visited  almost  every  capital  in  Germany  and  Austria, 
and  having  penetrated  into  Turkey  after  first  crossing  the 
Black  Sea  from  Odessa  to  Trebizond,  in  Asia  Minor,  he 
resolved  to  return  to  Paris  by  way  of  Constantinople  and  the 
the  Mediterranean  Sea.  While  at  Constantinople  curiosity 
prompted  him  to  visit  the  slave  market,  although  the  common 
impression  that  there  are  there  to  be  seen  exposed  to  vulgar 
gaze  the  beauties  of  Georgia,  Circassia,  or  the  Isles  of  Greece 
is  erroneous,  these  being  only  shown  to  Turks  of  rank  and 


91 

fortune,  who,  it  is  expected,  have  a  desire  to  purchase  them  for 
their  own  harems,  or  perchance,  for  the  purpose  of  making  an 
acceptable  gift  to  so  ne  superior.  The  majority  of  the  slaves 
exposed  openly  in  the  market  are  negroes  and  mulattoes  of  vari 
ous  shades,  and  the  sight  in  reality  offers  little  novelty  to  any 
one  who  has  witnessed  the  sale  of  negroes  at  New  Orleans,  or 
any  other  Southern  slave  mart. 

Whilst,  however,  George  Seymour  and  his  travelling  com 
panion  were  strolling  through  the  streets,  the  attention  of  the 
former  was  arrested  by  the  sight  of  a  beautiful  child  of  seven  or 
eight  years  of  age,  who  was  being  led  up  and  down  the  slave 
market  by  a  female  of  prepossessing  appearance,  but  whose 
features  were  marked  by  a  ferocity  of  expression  that  showed 
her  to  be  the  slave  of  the  most  unbridled  passions.  She  was 
attired,  as  well  as  the  child,  in  the  dress  of  the  females  of  the 
Grecian  Archipelago;  and  evidently,  from  the  anxious  glances 
she  cast  at  those  who  noticed  the  beauty  of  the  child,  she 
sought  a  purchaser  for  her. 

"  Good  God  !"  exclaimed  George  Seymour  to  his  companion, 
"  can  it  be  possible  that  infant  is  for  sale!" 

"  No  doubt  of  it,"  answered  the  ci-devant  usher,  whose  name 
was  Jollette;  "both  the  Greeks  and  the  Circassians  sell  their 
children;  but  this  little  creature  is  rather  young — that  is  the 
reason  she  is  publicly  exposed.  Were  she  older  you  would  not 
get  the  chance  of  seeing  her,  unless  you  were  favored  by  getting 
the  entree  into  the  bagnios  where  the  slaves  destined  for  the  harems 
of  the  grand  seigneurs  are  kept,  secluded  from  the  curiosity  of 
the  vulgar.  Pardieu!  Monsieur  George,  it  is  as  difficult  to 
get  a  glimpse  of  one  of  these  veiled  beauties  before  they  be 
come  inmates  of  the  harem,  as  it  is  afterwards." 

"  She  is  a  lovely  little  creature,"  exclaimed  George,  whose 
attention  was  so  earnestly  fixed  upon  the  child  that  he  had 
paid  little  heed  to  what  his  companion  had  said. 

"  Yes,  she  is  pretty  enough — mais  tres  petite — a  mere  child." 

"  And  the  most  beautiful  child  I  have  ever  seen,"  responded 
George.  "  See  what  hair — thick,  soft,  and  long,  and  glossy  as 
silk.  It  shines  in  the  sun  like  threads  of  gold — and  what  eyes, 
and  eyebrows,  and  eyelashes!" 

"  And  what  a  smooth  forehead,  and  what  a  straight  Grecian 
nose,  and  what  a  round,  finely  moulded  chin,  and  fair,  pure 
complexion,"  said  M.  Jollette,  laughing.  "  You  see,  George, 
I  can  admire  the  points  of  female  beauty  as  well  as  you  ;  but, 
ma  foi  I  it  is  so  much  admiration  thrown  away  upon  one  so 


92  THE    CABIN    BOY'S    STORY. 

young.  Parbleu  !  If  you  could  only  get  admission  into  yon 
der  bagnio  now — or  were  this  damsel  eighteen  instead  of  eight 
years  of  age,  it  would  be  another  matter" — 

While  this  conversation  had  been  going  on,  the  object  of  the 
youth's  admiratio.thad  been  gazing  about  her  with  an  expres 
sion  of  bewildered  delight  at  the  novelty  of  her  situation,  ap 
parently  quite  unconcerned — probably  ignorant  of  the  fate  to 
which  she  was  evidently  destined. 

The  female  who  had  her  in  charge,  however,  had  noticed  the 
admiration  that  shone  in  the  ardent  gaze  of  the  younger  of  the 
Frank  strangers,  and  she  addressed  him  in  a  Greek  patois, 
which,  with  the  knowledge  of  the  Greek  language  he  had  ac 
quired  at  school,  and  which  was  still  fresh  in  his  memory,  aidec1 
by  the  practice  he  had  had  in  the  various  dialects  during  the 
last  six  months  of  his  travels,  young  Seymour  could,  with  some 
little  difficulty,  manage  to  comprehend. 

"  Would  the  Frank  milord  buy  the  child  ?"  she  asked. 

"  What  does  the  woman  say,  George  ?"  inquired  M.  Jollette, 
whose  attention  had  been  elsewhere  directed,  but  who  had 
heard  the  woman's  voice. 

"  As  well  as  I  can  make  out,  she  asks  if  I  will  buy  the 
child,"  replied  George. 

Ha,  ha,  ha  !"  laughed  M.  Jollette.  "  Mon  dun  I  Jest  drok 
ca !  A  precious  bargain  you  would  have,  my  friend.  If,  as  I 
said,  the  girl  were  eighteen,  now,  there  would  be  some  sense  in 
it;  but,  Parbleu!  even  then,  you  could  not  carry  her  to 
Paris." 

.  Not  heeding  the  badinage  of  his  companion,  George  had  en 
tered  into  a  broken  conversation  with  the  woman. 

"  Is  the  child  your  own  ?"  he  asked. 

"  Mine  to  sell,  monsieur,"  replied  the  woman. 

"  But  is  she  your  daughter — your  own  child  ?" 

The  woman  smiled,  but  did  not  reply. 

"  Where  do  you  come  from  ?" 

"  From  Scio,  Signer"  said  the  woman,  altering  the  title  she 
gave  the  querist  at  each  reply — sometimes  giving  the  French, 
sometimes  the  Italian,  and  sometimes  the  Spanish  title  of  re 
spect. 

"  Are  you  a  native  of  that  Island  ?" 

"  Si,  Scnor." 

"  And  the  child  also  ?" 

"  Si,  Excdknza." 

11  What  are  you  talking  about,  George  ?"  interposed  M.  Jol- 


THE    CABIN    BOY'S    STORY.  93 

lette;  "  you  will  cause  the  woman  to  believe  that  you  wish  to 
purchase  the  child. 

"  And  if  I  do  ?" 

"  Then  I  think  you  will  be  a  great  fool,"  replied  M.  Jollette. 

"  M.  Jollette/7  said  George,  sternly,  "  I  would  thank  you 
not  to  address  such  language  to  rne  again,  or  we  part  com 
pany.  I  will  allow  no  one  to  address  me  in  that  manner." 

"  Pardon,  Monsieur  George"  replied  the  Frenchman;  "it 
was  a  slip  of  the  tongue  ;  I  meant  no  harm.  You  are  too 
hasty.  Have  your  own  way." 

"  I  mean  to  have  it,"  answered  George,  curtly,  as  he  pro 
ceeded  again  to  question  the  woman — 

"  And  you  really  wish  to  sell  this  pretty  child  ?"  he  said. 

"  Really,  Monsieur  I  have  I  not  already  told  your  excel 
lency  ?" 

"  And  how  much  do  you  ask  for  her  ?" 

"  Monsieur  1"  exclaimed  the  woman,  apparently  not  compre 
hending  the  question. 

"  The  price.  How  many  piastres  ?  I  ask  the  price  of  the 
child." 

"  Ah,  yes  ;  Milord  is  rich,  and  the  child  is  very  beautiful. 
I  demand  one  thousand  piastres." 

"  Pooh,  pooh  !"  replied  George,  turning  away  ;  "  you  ask 
the  price  of  a  beauty  old  enough  to  become  the  inmate  of  a 
harem." 

The  woman  feared  that  he  was  about  to  leave,  and  she  hasr 
tily  repeated — 

"The  child  is  very  beautiful.  I  will  take  eight  hundred 
piastres." 

"  If  I  were  certain  that  you  were  the  mother  of  the  infant, 
and  had  the  right  to  dispose  of  her,  I  would  purchase  her," 
replied  Seymour.  "  Who  and  what  are  you  ?"  he  continued, 
"  and  by  what  right  do  you  dispose  of  her  ?" 

"I  am  her  mother,  Excdlenza." 

"  Good  God  !  is  it  possible,  woman  ?"  exclaimed  Seymour. 
"  You  a  mother,  and  sell  your  own  child,  and  such  a  beautiful 
child  as  this  !" 

"I  am  very  poor,  Senior,  and  my  husband  compels  me." 

"  Have  you  other  children  ?"  asked  the  young  man,  scarcely 
able  to  control  his  indignation. 

"  I  have  a  son  at  Scio  ;  I  have  another  daughter." 

"  And  she  is  dead  ?" 

"  1  have  sold  her,  Excellc-nza — she  was  very  beautiful,  more 


94  THE    CABIN    BOY  S    STORY. 

beautiful  than  this  child.  She  is  in  the  seraglio  of  the  Sultan 
Mahmoud."  [This  occurrence  took  place,  it  must  be  borne  in 
mind,  prior  to  the  death  of  the  Sultan  Mahmoud,  father  of  the 
present  Sultan,  Abd-el-Medjid.] 

"  I  will  not  purchase  a  child  from  its  mother,"  said  the  young 
man,  indignantly  turning  away. 

"  As  your  excellency  pleases,"  replied  the  woman.  "  The 
child  is  beautiful  ;  she  will  find  a  purchaser." 

At  this  moment  the  little  girl,  who  had  been,  apparently 
unconsciously,  listening  to  this  conversation,  but  who  had  been, 
evidently,  pleased  with  the  admiration  with  which  Seymour 
regarded  her,  smiled  innocently,  and  placed  her  hand  in  his. 
This  smile,  -and  the  simple  act  of  childish  confidence,  decided 
Seymour. 

"  Woman,  I  will  buy  the  girl,"  said  he  ;  "follow  me  to  the 
caravansera,  and  I  will  give  you  the  money."  He  took  the 
hand  of  the  child  and  led  her  through  the  street,  heedless  of  the 
sneers  of  Jolette  and  the  wondering  gaze  of  numerous  specta 
tors. 

"Would  you  like  to  come  and  live  with  me  ?"  he  asked  the 
child,  as  plainly  as  he  could,  addressing  her  in  her  native 
patois 

"  You  will  be  kind  to  me  ?"  said  she,  inquiringly,  yet  still 
confidingly. 

"  Very  kind.  I  shall  love  you  very  much.  Shall  you  not 
be  very  sorry  to  leave  your  mother  ?" 

"Zoe  beats  me,"  replied  the  child. 

"But  she  is  your  mother  ?"  inquired  Seymour  ;  "  shall  you 
not  be  sorry  to  leave  her  ?" 

"  She  makes  me  call  her  Zoe,  not  mother.  I  shall  like  to  live 
with  you.  You  will  be  kind  to  me." 

"  Indeed  I  will,"  answered  Seymour. 

At  this  moment  they  arrived  at  the  Turkish  Inn,  or  cara 
vansera  ;  and  the  money  was  paid  over  to  the  woman  who  had 
said  she  was  the  mother  of  the  little  girl,  and  she  became  the 
property  of  George  Seymour.  Whether  or  not  Zoe,  as  the 
child  called  her,  was  really  her  mother,  George  never  learnt. 
He  made  further  inquiries  after  her  on  the  following  day,  but 
she  had  gone,  immediately  after  she  had  received  the  money,  on 
board  a  Greek  felucca,  which  was  on  the  point  of  sailing  for 
Scio — and  he  never  saw  her  again. 

It  required  all  George's  determination  to  control  the  ridicule 
with  which  Jollette  would  have  assailed  him  had  he  dared  ;  but 


95 

his  youthful  companion  had  already  obtained  a  complete  mas 
tery  over  him,  and  Jollette  contented  himself  with  laughing  in 
his  sleeve  at  what  he  considered  the  insane  folly  of  his  compa 
nion. 

"  What  is  your  name,  ma  petite  ?"  asked  George  of  the  child, 
after  he  had  carried  her  into  his  own  apartment  in  the  cara- 
vansera. 

"  They  call  me  Bedetta,"  was  the  reply. 

"  And  I  shall  call  you  Zuleika  henceforward,"  answered 
George,  "  you  will  recollect  that — you  are  my  Zuleika." 

"  Yes — it  is  a  pretty  name,"  said  the  child,  gazing  trustingly 
in  her  new  protector's  face. 

"  Why  have  you  chosen  that  name,  George  ?"  asked  Jollette. 

"  Because  I  fancy  it,"  he  replied — "  because  Byron's  Zuleika 
was  always  a  favorite  heroine  of  mine,  and  because  I  fancy  this 
little  girl  is  like  her." 

"  To-morrow  we  quit  Constantinople  for  Naples,"  said  Jollette 
after  a  pause. 

"  Yes,  to-morrow — I  have  got  our  permits  ready." 

"And  what  do  you  intend  to  do  with  little  Bedetta — Zuleika, 
I  mean  ?" 

"  Take  her  with  me." 

"And  then?" 

"  Carry  her  with  me  to  France." 

Jollette  did  not  reply,  but  he  opened  his  eyes  very  wide  and 
shrugged  his  shoulders. 

At  length  he  ventured  to  ask — 

"  And  your  future  intentions  regarding  her — are  ?" 

"  To  have  her  educated,  and  when  she  is  old  enough  to  mar 
ry,  to  make  her  my  wife.  It  is  a  whim  I  have  taken  into  my 
head." 

"  And  as  foolish  a  whim  as  ever  man  determined  upon,"  mut 
tered  Jollette  to  himself,  inaudibly,  "we  shall  see  what  it 
comes  to." 

On  the  following  day,  George  Seymour  and  Jollette — the  for 
mer  with  Zuleika,  as  we  shall  now  call  her,  under  his  care — sail 
ed  for  Naples,  and  having  remained  there  for  a  few  weeks,  again 
sailed  for  Carthagena  in  Spain,  Seymour  having  resolved  to 
make  the  tour  of  the  Spanish  Continent  before  he  returned  to 
Paris. 

Finding,  however,  that  it  was  difficult  to  travel  with  the  child, 
he  placed  her  in  a  convent  at  Grenada,  for  the  purpose  of  being 
educated,  leaving  ample  funds  in  the  hands  of  one  of  the  sisters 


96  THE    CABIN    BOY  S    STORY. 

for  present  purposes,  and  promising  to  return  within  a  year  and 
renew  his  payment  and  ascertain  what  progress  the  child  had 
made. 

Thus  far,  all  had  been  couleur  de  rose  in  Seymour's  life,  but 
now  he  was  doomed  to  suffer  a  sad  reverse  of  fortune.  On  his 
arrival  at  Madrid,  he  had  expected  to  have  received  remittances 
from  France,  but  he  found  none,  and  having  expended  all  his 
available  funds  for  the  child's  education,  he  was  put  to  great 
inconvenience.  He,  however,  wrote  to  Paris,  and  awaited  a 
reply  at  Madrid.  It  came  at  last,  but  not  in  the  form  he  had 
anticipated. 

The  letter  came  from  his  late  mother's  banker  at  Paris.  It 
informed  the  young  man  that  Monsieur  Dichet  had  failed  in 
business,  under  circumstances  of  a  dishonorable  nature,  and  had 
absconded,  no  one  knew  whither,  deeply  in  debt,  and  having 
withdrawn  from  the  bank,  some  time  before  his  embarrassed 
circumstances  became  known,  the  whole  of  the  large  property 
he  had  in  trust  for  George  Seymour.  The  young  man  perused 
the  letter  with  dismay.  A  moment  before,  he  had  imagined 
himself  to  be  the  possessor  of  immense  wealth  ;  now  he  was 
ruined,  by  the  villainy  of  one  in  whose  faith  he  had  implicitly 
trusted.  He  was,  in  fact,  a  pauper  in  a  strange  land. 

He  kept  his  own  apartment,  perfectly  stupefied  by  the 
contents  of  the  tetter,  during  the  whole  of  that  day.  On  the 
following  morning  he  resolved  to  seek  advice  of  M.  Jollette. 
He  was  not  to  be  found.  Upon  inquiry,  he  learnt  that  he  had 
received  a  letter  from  Paris  on  the  preceding  day,  and  had  im 
mediately  set  out  for  France.  George  soon  found  that  this 
infamous  man  had  not  only  quitted  him  in  his  hour  of  misfor 
tune,  but  had  robbed  him  to  a  large  amount.  He  had  carried 
off  with  him  a  trunk  containing  all  the  most  valuable  of  George's 
personal  effects  and  the  little  cash  that  he  still  had  in  his  pos 
session.  George  was  thunderstruck,  stupefied,  when  he  contem 
plated  the  perfidy  of  this  villain  ;  but  the  heaviest  blow  had 
already  fallen  upon  the  victim,  and  now  he  bore  the  second, 
which  a  few  hours  before  would  have  almost  prostrated  his  ener 
gies,  with  comparative  stoicism.  He  soon  recovered  from  the 
temporary  stupefaction  which  the  desertion  of  his  companion 
had  caused,  and  his  eye  lighted  upon  a  letter  on  the  mantelshelf 
of  the  apartment.  It  was  directed  to  him  ;  he  opened  and  read 
it.  It  ran  as  follows  : 

"  GEORGE   SEYMOUR  : — I  htwe  borne  long  enough  with  your 


THE    CABIN    BOY'S    STORY.  97 

patronage — and  while  you  were  wealthy  have  put  up  with  the 
scorn  and,  contumely  with  which  you  have  treated  me.  Now, 
I  have  learnt  you  are  penniless.  Think  not  that  you  have  a 
friend  in  me.  I  used  you — /,  whom  you  despised,  as  a  tool  to 
suit  my  own  purposes.  You  are  useful  to  me  no  longer,  and  I 
have  left  you  forever.  ANTOINE  DICHET, 

Known  to  you  as  Pierre  Jollette." 

This  was  sufficient  to  satisfy  the  betrayed  youth  that  his 
companion,  Jollette,  was  a  relative  of  his  late  infamous  guar 
dian,  and  had  been  employed  by  M.  Dichet  for  the  furtherance 
of  his  own  purposes.  He  had  been  amply  supplied  with  mo 
ney,  in  order  to  blind  his  eyes  to  the  duplicity  of  his  guardian 
and  his  travelling  companion,  and  he  had  fallen  into  the  snare. 

George  Seymour  was  not  one  to  fall  into  the  depths  of  de 
spair  upon  learning  the  falsity  of  his  supposed  friends.  He  did 
not  tear  his  hair,  or  rend  his  garments,  or  give  himself  up  to 
sorrow;  but  he  recorded  a  vow  (falling  into  the  other  extreme, 
and  thinking  that  because  those  whom  he  had  trusted  had  de 
ceived  him,  all  men  were  deceitful),  that  his  hand  should 
thenceforth  be  raised  against  every  man — that  he  would 
thenceforth  have  no  compunction — that  his  own  interests 
should  be  paramount  to  any  other  consideration — that  neither 
man  nor  woman  should  thereafter  stand  in  the  way  of  the 
gratification  of  his  will.  One  only  reservation  he  made.  It 
was  in  favor  of  the  little  Scio  girl  whom  he  had  purchased. 
Her  he  vowed  to  love,  protect,  and  cherish.  She  was,  like 
himself,  cast  off — betrayed  by  her  natural  protector — there 
was  common  cause  between  them — 'and  while  he  lived  he  re 
solved  that  she  should  not  want — should  know  no  sorrow — 
should  be  in  the  receipt  of  every  gratification  it  lay  in  his 
power  to  bestow. 

The  remaining  portion  of  George  Seymour's  career,  until  the 
period  in  which  he  was  introduced  to  the  reader,  was  quite  as 
singular,  though  in  a  different  way,  to  that  which  had  pre 
ceded  it. 

He  raised  money  by  the  sale  of  his  watch  and  jewels  to  reach 
Paris.  There  arrived,  he  sought  out  the  banker,  and  learnt 
from  him  the  utter  hopelessness  of  his  affairs.  In  him,  how 
ever,  he  found  a  friend.  He  possessed  considerable  literary 
talent,  and  obtained,  through  the  banker,  a  situation  on  one 
of  the  leading  journals  of  the  capital.  In  a  short  time  his  ar 
ticles  created  great  sensation,iand  he  seemed  on  the  Imvh  road 

5 


98  THE  CABIN  BOY'S  STORY. 

to  fame  and  fortune — for  successful  journalism  is,  in  France,  a 
guarantee  of  fame — but  his  notions  were  too  republican — too 
democratic,  to  suit  the  court  of  Louis  Phillippe,  and  the  writer 
was  discovered,  fined,  and  imprisoned.  "While  in  jail  he  re 
newed  his  vows  of  hatred  and  scorn  towards  mankind,  and 
upon  his  release,  heedless  of  the  future,  he  resolved  to  put  his 
theory  into  practice.  He  joined  a  band  of  robbers  in  the  passes 
of  the  Apennines,  and  remained  with  them  six  months,  until  the 
band  was  dispersed  by  gendarmes.  He  escaped  (though  several 
were  captured),  and  wandered  through  Switzerland  and  Italy, 
living  upon  the  booty  he  had  saved.  Arrived  at  Otranto, 
scarcely  caring  whither  was  his  destination,  and  his  funds  fail 
ing,  he  joined  a  Greek  vessel  that  was  about  sailing  from  that 
out  of  the  way  port,  altogether  heedless  of  her  character. 
She  proved  to  be  a  piratical  craft,  and  in  her  ho  cruised  for 
several  months,  distinguishing  himself,  amongst  his  cruel  com 
rades,  by  his  superior  ferocity.  Still,  amidst  all  this,  one  hu 
manizing  influence  prevailed  ;  it  was  the  thought  of  the  little 
Zuleika  whom  he  had  left  at  Grenada. 

Amidst  all  his  difficulties  he  had  managed  to  transmit  to  the 
superior  of  the  convent,  from  time  to  time,  sufficient  for  her 
maintenance  and  education,  though,  since  he  had  placed  her 
there,  he  had  never  visited  her.  At  last  the  pirate's  strong 
hold  in  the  Greek  seas  was  broken  up,  and  with  a  considerable 
amount  of  property  in  his  possession,  which  he  turned  into  mo 
ney,  he  sought  the  land  of  his  birth,  without  a  thought  of  his 
future  career.  He  arrived  at  Charleston,  and  was  persuaded 
by  a  sea  captain,  whom  he  fell  in  with,  to  take  a  trip  to  sea 
with  him.  The  vessel  proved  to  have  been  secretly  fitted  out 
as  a  slaver,  and  on  board  of  her,  nothing  loth,  George  Sey 
mour  was  initiated  into  the  mysteries  of  the  infamous  traffic  in 
slaves  on  the  African  coast. 

On  his  return  he  was  introduced  to  Mr.  Mordant.  His 
gentlemanly  manners,  and  his  apparently  unscrupulous  princi 
ples,  satisfied  the  merchant  that  he  was  a  person  who  would 
suit  him,  and  he  was  forthwith  installed  as  captain  of  one  of 
his  vessels,  secretly  engaged  in  conveying  slaves  from  the  coast 
of  Africa,  and  disposing  of  them  in  Cuba  and  on  the  Brazilian 
coast. 

At  this  period  George  Seymour  had  only  just  attained  his 
twenty-first  year,  although  his  habits  of  life  had  made  him 
seem  older.  On  his  first  voyage  he  boldly  ran  into  Gibraltar 
with  false  papers,  and  leaving  his  ship,  brought  the  young  gill 


THE  CABIN  BOY'S  STORY.  99 

Zuleika  from  Grenada,  and  hired  a  governess  as  companion  to 
accompany  her.  The  pretty  child  he  now  found  giving  every 
promise  of  becoming  a  most  beautiful  woman.  She  was  trans 
ported  with  delight  on  again  beholding  her  protector,  and  he 
took  her  with  him  to  Sierra  Leone.  There  he  made  a  pur 
chase  from  a  Portuguese  merchant  of  a  considerable  lot  of  land 
in  the  lovely  but  almost  unsettled  island  of  Annabon,  upon 
which  he  caused  a  handsome  cottage  to  be  erected,  and  there 
he  placed  Zuleika,  still  under  the  tuition  of  her  governess. 
During  five  years  he  visited  her  there  as  often  as  he  could, 
which,  however,  was  but  seldom;  but  he  lavished  freely  upon 
her,  and  upon  her  abode,  the  money  he  gained  by  his  nefarious 
profession.  At  the  end  of  this  period,  when  the  girl  was  in 
her  fifteenth  year,  the  governess  died,  and  was  buried  on  tho 
island,  and  Seymour,  who  was  on  a  visit  to  Annabon  at  the 
time,  secured  the  services  of  a  Portuguese  padre,  and  married 
the  young  and  beautiful  girl.  Thus  Zuleika  became  the  slave 
captain's  bride,  well  educated,  yet  ignorant,  poor  child,  of  all 
the  conventionalities  of  life,  and  all  the  more  loved  by  Seymour 
in  consequence  of  this  artlessness.  Such  was  Zuleika  at  the 
period  at  which  she  was  introduced  to  the  reader. 

We  have  given  a  sufficient  insight  into  the  character  of  Sey 
mour  to  show  that  he  was  in  many  respects  a  man  of  heartless, 
unprincipled  disposition  ;  but,  notwithstanding  his  many  fail 
ings,  he  was  ever  true  to  his  love  for  the  innocent  being  whom 
he  had  taken  under  his  protection,  and  whom  he  loved  with  a 
passionate,  all-passing  affection. 

Well  might  he  repeat  the  last  line  of  the  "  Corsair,"  when 
Henry  had  concluded  the  reading  in  the  cabin,  and  take  to 
himself  as  prophetic  of  his  future  the  concluding  couplet : 

"  And  dying,  left  a  name  to  other  times, 

Linked  with  one  virtue  and  a  thousand  crimes." 


CHAPTER  X. 

Zuleika's  bower — Harry  Davis's  secret  is,  by  accident,  discovered  by  the 
Greek  girl. 

THE  Western  coast  of  the  African  continent,  or  at  least  that 
portion  of  it  which  is  situated  between  the  tropics,  has  long 


100  THE  CABIN  BOY'S  STORY. 

been  notorious  for  the  fatality  of  its  climate  to  European  con 
stitutions  ;  yet  it  abounds  with  scenery  of  the  most  delightful 
and  sometimes  of  the  most  romantic  character  ;  nowhere  has 
nature  been  so  lavish  of  her  gifts — nowhere  has  vegetation 
revelled  so  wildly  in  the  extravagance  of  luxuriance  :  for  here 
she  knows  no  period  of  torpidity  ;  she  knows  decay,  it  is  true 
— for  every  earthly  thing,  animate  or  inanimate,  must  wither 
and  perish  ;  but  she  needs  no  resting  space  to  recover  her 
vitality  ;  the  fall-blown  leaves  fall  off— the  matured  herbage 
perishes  ;  but  the  germ  of  new  life  has  already  been  sown,  and 
it  almost  immediately  springs  into  maturity.  Were  this  beau 
tiful  country  cleared  of  its  rank  and  superabundant  vegetation, 
which,  falling  to  the  earth,  ere  yet  it  is  entirely  withered,  or  its 
moisture  evaporated  through  the  pressure  and  rapid  growth  of 
young  and  healthy  shoots,  loads  the  soil  with  decomposing 
vegetable  matter,  breeding  malaria  in  its  most  noxious  and 
fatal  form — were  the  soil  drained  and  improved  by  the  arts  of 
civilization,  it  would  be,  we  truly  believe,  one  of  the  most 
salubrious,  as  it  is  now  one  of  the  most  enchanting  portions  of 
the  globe.  Poor,  benighted  Africa  !  In  all  things  allowed  to 
run  waste — its  people  debased  ;  its  soil  neglected  ;  its  resources 
unknown  !  its  interior  unexplored  ;  will  it  ever  occupy  the 
position  that  its  situation  and  extent  over  the  earth's  surface, 
its  mineral  and  agricultural  wealth,  and  its  commercial  promise 
should  claim  for  it  ?  Will  the  ban  of  the  patriarch  pronounced 
against  its  children  never  be  removed  ;  or  will  it  ever  remain,  as 
it  now  is,  the  only  portion  of  the  habitable  globe  into  which  the 
light  of  science  and  the  spirit  of  adventure  has  not  penetrated  ? 
A  mystery  enshrouds  the  depths  of  its  dark  forests,  and  the 
unknown  extent  of  its  vast  deserts.  Its  sombre  and  apparently 
impassable,  impregnable  mountain  fastnesses,  and  the  un- 
fathoraed  beds  of  its  mighty  rivers — the  sources  of  which  are 
unknown,  may  contain  treasures,  such  as  the  world  has  not 
hitherto  dreamed  of — may  form  a  barrier  to  wonders,  such  as 
have  never  yet  startled  mankind.  Who  knows — who  can  sur 
mise  what  may  be  the  condition  of  the  interior  of  this  vast 
continent  ?  Will  it  always  be  thus  ?  We  believe  not.  We 
think  that  the  day  will  arrive  when  Africa,  shunned  and 
despised  now,  will  furnish  a  wide  and  ample  field  for  the  labors 
of  the  philanthropist  and  the  man  of  science,  and  for  the  enter 
prise  and  energy  of  the  traveller  and  the  merchant.  Then,  and 
not  until  then,  when  it  is  destroyed  at  the  fountain  head,  will 
the  ban  of  slavery  be  removed,  and  the  shocking  scenes  it  lias 


THE  CABIN  BOY'S  STORY.  101 

been,  and  still  will  be  our  duty  to  depict,  be  seen  and  heard  of 
no  more  :  then,  and  not  until  then,  will  its  debased  population 
become  capable  of  asserting  and  maintaining  their  rights,  as 
denizens  of  the  earth's  surface  and  men  made  after  the  image 
of  the  Creator,  although  their  skins  are  darkened  by  the  rays 
of  an  ardent  sun,  their  intellect  brutalized  by  ages  of  pagan 
ism,  and  their  spirit  crushed  and  subdued  because  "  the  hand 
of  every  man  is  turned  against  them."  The  islands  upon  the 
coast  of  Africa,  and  those  scattered  in  the  bights  of  Biaffra 
and  Benin,  are  as  famed  for  their  fertile  soil  and  their  mag 
nificent  scenery,  as  the  adjacent  coast  ;  and  in  some  instances 
as  dreaded  for  their  deadly  climate.  This  is  the  case  with  Fer 
nando  Po,  St.  Thomas,  and  the  larger  islands  ;  but  the  latter 
remark  does  not  apply  to  those  of  smaller  magnitude,  the 
atmosphere  of  which  is  kept  cool  and  healthful  by  sea  breezes, 
which  penetrate  throughout  their  whole  surface.  These  are 
lovely  oases  in  the  desert  of  ocean,  and  amongst  these  one  of 
the  most  beautiful,  most  fertile,  and  most  healthful,  is  the 
delightful  island  of  Annabon. 

We  have  already  briefly  described  the  abode  of  Zuleika.  It 
was  situated  near  the  sea-side,  and  embosomed  in  the  forest, 
although  there  were  several  vistas  through  which  might  be 
seen  glimpses  of  lovely  landscape  stretching  far  into  the  per 
spective.  Winding  paths  through  the  forest  and  amidst  the 
cane-brakes  led  to  various  favorite  spots  of  Zuleika's,  where 
she  loved  to  wander  and  repose  on  the  soft  turf,  and  where  she 
had  caused  arbors  of  mango  trees  to  be  formed  in  which  she 
could  rest  sheltered  from  the  too  ardent  rays  of  the  sun  during 
the  noonday  heats.  There  was  one  spot  which  was  an  especial 
favorite  with  her,  and  there,  one  morning  about  three  weeks 
after  Captain  Seymour  had  left  for  the  coast,  she  and  Harry 
Davis  had  wandered  together. 

This  place  was  more  scant  of  trees  than  most  parts  of  the 
island,  and  the  scenery'  around  resembled  more  that  of  the 
temperate  zones  in  its  type,  although  the  broad  leaves  of  the 
palm  and  cocoa  trees,  and  the  broad-bladed  herbage  and  wide- 
spreading  cactuses  and  other  prickly  shrubs,  still  stamped  it 
with  the  impress  of  tropical  verdure.  In  the  back-ground, 
right  in  the  centre  of  the  island,  rose  a  range  of  lofty  and 
rugged  mountains,  covered  half-way  to  the  summit  with  trees 
and  herbage  ;  but  the  lofty  peaks  of  which  were  bleak  and 
bare,  and  sharply  defined  against  the  deep  blue,  clear,  tropical 


102  THE    CABIN    BOY'S    STORY. 

The  island  was  but  small,  but  this  range  of  mountains — dome 
upon  dome,  peak  upon  peak — heaped  in  very  confusion  as 
though  an  Atlas  had  stumbled  with  his  burden  and  left  the 
broken  fragments  of  a  world  behind  him — gave  an  air  of  vast- 
ness  and  grandeur  to  the  view,  and  allowed  free  scope  to  the 
fancy  to  imagine  a  perspective  of  unmeasured  depth  ;  the 
slopes  of  these  mountains  were  lost  amidst  the  forest  growth 
which  stretched  on  either  side  around  this  favorite  spot,  and 
inclosed  it,  as  it  were,  in  an  amphitheatre,  through  the  centre 
of  which,  between  slopes  covered  with  verdure  and  studded 
with  picturesque  clumps  of  trees,  coursed  a  wide  rivulet,  on 
which  were  several  little  islands  thickly  grown  with  long  grass 
and  reeds  and  shrubbery,  and  around  which  the  water  rapidly 
flowing  towards  the  sea  temporarily  impeded  in  its  course, 
whirled  and  rippled  and  created  miniature  whirlpools.  A  grove 
of  cocoas  and  palms  thickly  intertwined  with  parasite  shrub 
bery,  rich  in  wild  flowers  of  gorgeous  coloring,  grew  along  the 
margin  of  the  rivulet,  which  here  and  there  widened  and  formed 
miniature  bays  and  harbors,  sheltered,  shaded,  and  darkened 
by  the  dense  overhanging  brushwood,  and  a  poet's  fancy  might 
have  dreamed  that  the  wood  nymphs  and  naiads  of  heathen 
mythology  loved  to  sport  and  play  amidst  the  cool  waters,  or 
to  rest  beneath  the  cover  of  the  foliage.  Groups  of  goats  and 
antelopes  which  Seymour  had  caused  to  be  brought  from  the 
southern  coast,  bounded  over  the  flowery  turf,  or  leaped 
amongst  the  rocks  and  clambered  the  hillocks  which  rose 
around  in  picturesque  confusion,  fearless  of  the  attack  of  the 
wild  beasts  of  the  forest,  for  these,  though  numerous  on  the 
coast,  are  unknown  to  the  islands,  where  the  largest  and  wild 
est  inhabitant  of  the  jungle  is  the  monkey  or  the  squirrel. 
They  had  grown  to  know  Zuleika,  and  would  come  bounding 
toward  her  at  her  call,  and  feed  from  her  hands,  allowing  her 
to  pat  and  stroke  their  soft,  glossy  coats.  The  rivulet  broke 
into  a  miniature  waterfall  just  above  the  spot  on  which  Zuleika 
had  caused  an  arbor,  covered  with  flowering  acacias,  to  be  con 
structed,  and  a  few  yards  beneath  this,  many  hued  fishes 
basked  and  played  in  the  sunshine,  or  darted  to  and  fro  in  the 
clear  water,  their  every  rapid  motion  marked  by  a  streak  of 
silvery  lightning  flashing  into  the  eyes  of  the  beholder. 

In  this  arbor,  about  three  weeks  (as  we  have  said)  after 
Captain  Seymour  had  returned  to  the  coast,  Zuleika  and 
Harry  were  seated,  alternately  conversing  together,  or  reading 
the  books  that  were  strewn  about,  and  which  had  been  brought 


103 

from  the  cottage  by  Zuleika's  negro  attendant,  or  gazing  upon 
the  falling  water  sparkling  in  the  sunbeams,  and  displaying  all 
the  colors  of  the  prism,  and  watching  the  fishes  as  they  darted 
to  and  fro,  catching  the  crumbs  of  bread  thrown  them  by  the 
youth  and  maiden. 

Harry  could  speak,  as  we  have  said,  a  few  words  of  Span 
ish,  and  could  understand  much  more,  when  he  first  arrived  at 
Annabon;  but  it  was  astonishing  with  what  rapidity  he  had 
progressed  during  the  short  period  he  had  been  there.  He 
now  found  no  difficulty  in  conversing  with  Zuleika — in  broken 
language,  it  is  true,  but  such  as  she  could  readily  understand; 
and  though  she  often  smiled  archly  and  good-naturedly  at  his 
blunders  and  his  utter  defiance  of  the  rules  of  grammar,  she 
sought  to  adapt  her  language  to  his  comprehension;  and  thus 
they  got  along  very  well  together,  as  Captain  Seymour  had 
said  they  would  when  he  left  them. 

"  And  is  America,  then,  as  beautiful  as  this  land  ?  Are 
there  such  sweet  scenes  there  as  this  upon  which  we  are  now 
gazing  ?"  asked  Zuleika,  in  reply  to  some  remark  made  by  her 
companion. 

"  America  is  a  vast  continent,"  replied  Harry;  "and  there 
is  a  great  variety  of  scenery.  In  the  southern  parts,  though  I 
have  never  been  there,  it  may  much  resemble  this;  but,  though 
more  rugged,  even  where  I  have  been,  the  country  is  in  sum 
mer  very  beautiful." 

"  Seymour  has  told  me  of  cold,  and  snow  which  falls  in  win 
ter,  and  I  have  read  of  it  in  books;  it  must  be  strange.  I 
should  like  to  see  it;'7  and  the  young  girl  sunk  into  a  tempo 
rary  reverie,  her  large  eyes  fixed  on  vacancy,  as  though  the 
scene  she  wished  to  visit  floated  before  her  mental  vision. 

Harry  sat  gazing  with  a  strange  admixture  of  feelings  upon 
her  extraordinary  beauty;  at  length  he  gave  vent  to  a  long 
drawn  sigh,  which  aroused  the  attention  of  his  companion. 

"  You  sigh — you  are  unhappy  ?"  she  said,  inquiringly. 
"  Why  is  it  so  ?  I  would  see  every  one  happy.  Yet  I  often 
notice  that  you  are  thoughtful  and  spiritless.  Why  is  it  so?" 

"Are  you  always  happy,  Zuleika  ?"  asked  Harry,  evading 
the  question,  and,  Yankee  fashion,  substituting  another. 

"  No,  not  always.  I  often  feel  discontented  at  the  thought 
of  being  confined  to  this  small  island,  or  rather  to  the  culti 
vated  portion  of  it  ;  for,  small  as  it  is,  the  interior  neither  I 
nor  any  of  my  negroes  have  seen.  And  yet  I  should  be  happy; 


104 

Seymour  loves  me  and  does  every  thing  in  his  power  to  make 
me  happy." 

"  And  you  love  him  ?" 

"  Love  him  !  How  can  I  do  otherwise  ?  He  is  all  in  all 
to  me — the  only  protector,  father,  brother,  lover,  I  have  ever 
known;  and  he  is  my  husband.  Love  him!  yes,  dearer  than  I 
love  my  own  life.  Some  day  he  will  take  me  hence,  or  come 
here  and  live  with  me  always  ;  he  says  so,  and  Seymour  never 
told  me  a  falsehood — and  then — yes  then — I  shall  not  want  to 
leave  this  island.  Is  not  George  handsome ?"  she  added  ;  "I 
have  seen  many  men  whom  he  lias  brought  here,  and  sometimes 
I  have  seen  Portuguese  traders  here;  but  none,  oh,  none  of 
them  can  compare  with  him." 

"  You  were  not  born  here  ?"  asked  Harry,  his  long  pent-up 
curiosity  respecting  Zuleika  getting  the  better  of  his  delicacy, 
of  introducing  questions  regarding  a  matter  she  had  never 
dwelt  upon. 

"  Oh,  no,"  and  the  girl  laughed  merrily.  "  No,  Senor 
Hari'y,  I  was  not  born  here — but  I  was  a  child  when  George 
brought  me  here  in  his  vessel.  I  recollect  little  of  the  world 
but  this  island,  and  a  convent  in  Granada — and  sometimes  I 
have  an  indistinct  recollection  of  something  else,  but  what  I 
cannot  say.  It  is  of  an  island — not  this,  but  like  this — and  a 
seashore  such  as  we  now  see  in  the  distance,  in  the  rippling 
waters  of  which  the  rays  of  the  sun  shone  reflected  as  they  do 
now  upon  yonder  sea — and  of  little  playmates,  and  a  woman 
who  was  perhaps  my  mother  ;  but  all  is  seen  as  through  a 
mist  in  my  childhood's  recollection.  Harry,  have  you  a 
mother?  My  mother  I  never  knew.  George  always  evades 
the  subject,  and  speaks  to  himself  in  English,  when  I  turn  the 
conversation  towards  that  point." 

A  tear  glistened  in  the  eyes  of  the  boy,  as  he  replied  : 

"  Yes,  Zuleika,  I  have  a  mother  who  loves  me  dearly." 

"  And  a  father,  and  a  brother  and  sister  ?"  asked  Zuleika. 

"  My  father  is  dead,  but  I  have  a  brother  in  America — per 
haps  now,  though,  he  is  upon  the  sea  ;  he  is  to  be  a  sailor.  I 
have  no  sister." 

"  I  wish  I  had  a  brother  and  sister — at  least  a  sister. 
George  is  my  brother  and  my  husband  too  ;  but  there  are  so 
many  reasons  why  I  should  like  a  sister.  You  are  not  mar 
ried — you  have  no  wife  ?"  she  asked,  suddenly  breaking  off  in 
her  abrupt  way. 


THE  CABIN  BOY'S  STORY.  105 

"  I  have  no  wife,"  replied  Harry,  smiling ;  "  why  do  yon 
ask  ?  I  am  too  young  to  marry." 

"  Oh  !  not  too  young  to  love,"  replied  the  girl  ;  "  I  have 
loved  Seymour  as  long  as  I  can  recollect.  I  could  not  live 
without  his  love — but  then  you  have  a  brother  to  love,  and  I 
never  had  brother  or  sister." 

She  remained  silent  and  thoughtful  for  several  minutes, 
carelessly  stroking  the  neck  of  a  favorite  fawn,  which  followed 
her  from  amongst  a  group  of  antelopes  like  a  dog.  At  length 
she  said: 

"  Harry,  tell  me  your  history.  You  are  not  like  other  sailor 
lads  I  have  seen;  they  are  coarse  and  rough — you  are  gentle 
and  kind — just  as  I  should  like  my  brother  to  be  if  heaven 
had  given  me  one.  You  shall  be  my  brother,"  she  added, 
smiling  in  his  face,  and  taking  his  hand  in  her  own.  "Tell 
your  sister  your  history,  Harry." 

"It  is  a  mournful  relation  ;  perhaps  some  day  I  will  tell  it 
you.  You  ask  me,  Zuleika,  if  I  have  ever  loved  ?  Yes;  truly, 
fondly,  trustingly.  I  set  my  heart  upon  an  idol,  as  you  have 
done  upon  Seymour,  and  found  my  idol  dashed  to  the  ground, 
when  I  had  forsaken  all  else  to  devote  myself  to  its  worship. 
Nay  more — I  found  that  the  image  I  had  set  up  before  me  as 
pure  gold  was  but  base  clay.  I  was  doubly  deceived  ;  all  my 
hopes  blasted;  myself — never  mind — perhaps  some  day  I  will 
tell  you  all — but — not  now."  He  ceased  speaking,  and  with 
difficulty  suppressed  his  emotion. 

"  Poor  Harry — how  I  pity  you,"  replied  the  girl,  a  tear  glit 
tering  in  her  large  dark  eyes.  "  It  must  be  dreadful  to  love 
and  not  be  loved  again.  If  Seymour  did  not  love  me,  I  should 
pray  daily,  hourly,  for  death.  If  he  were  aught  else  than  he  is 
— so  good,  so  gentle,  so  kind;  so  handsome,  so  devotedly 
attached  to  me — I  should  lore  him  still,  with  all  my  soul — that 
I  could  not  help  ;  but  I  should  pine  away  and  die  with  grief. 
Oh  !  the  thought  is  too  terrible — no  wonder  you  are  unhappy, 
Harry," — and  again  she  pressed  his  hand — "  but  I  will  be  your 
sister,  and  I  will  ask  George  to  let  you  stay  with  me  always. 
He  will  do  so  ; — he  will  refuse  me  nothing,  he  loves  me  so 
dearly." 

Harry  returned  the  pressure.  "  Poor  girl !  "  he  said,  men 
tally,  "  may  your  idol  never  be  shattered — may  he  be  always 
to  you  what  he  is  now  ;  but — I  fear  the  future." 

The  conversation  had  conjured  up  melancholy  thoughts  in  the 
minds  of  both,  and  they  sat  silently  upon  the  mossy  bank  of  the 

5* 


106  THE    CABIN    BOY'S    STORY. 

arbor  until  the  lengthening  shadows  warned  them  that  the  brief 
twilight  of  a  tropical  sunset  was  approaching. 

Zuleika  was  the  first  to  speak. 

.  "  Let  us  go  home,  Harry,"  she  said.  "  It  will  soon  grow 
dark.  We  will  each  learn  our  tasks — you,  your  Spanish  ;  I, 
my  English  lesson — and  then  you  shall  sing  to  me  while  I 
accompany  you  on  the  guitar.  Your  voice  is  soft  and  low.  Not 
like  Seymour's  ;  nobody  can  sing  like  him,  to  my  fancy — he  has 
such  a  deep,  manly  voice  ;  but  yours  is  pretty,  and  soft  almost 
as  mine.  Come,  let  us  go." 

They  arose  from  their  seats,  and  made  their  way  through  the 
narrow  path,  trodden  amidst  the  brushwood  and  long,  rank 
grass,  which  led  to  the  cottage,  some  half  mile  distant. 

We  have  observed  that  the  islands  of  the  African  coast  are 
free  from  the  ravages  of  savage  beasts  ;  but  the  deadly  snake 
lurks  in  the  forests  and  burrows  amidst  the  dead  leaves,  although 
it  seldom  ventures  into  the  clearings,  and  always  flies  at  the 
approach  of  human  beings. 

Harry,  being  the  taller  and  stronger  of  the  two,  was  walking 
first,  and  pushing  aside  the  tangled  branches  for  his  companion, 
for  the  trodden  path,  which  led  by  a  short  cut  to  the  house, 
only  permitted  them  to  walk  in  single  file.  They  had  reached 
a  turn  in  the  path,  which  necessitated  them  to  climb  up  a  flight 
of  steps  rudely  cut  in  the  rock,  and  Harry  was  preparing  to 
clamber  up,  Zuleika  being  a  few  steps  behind,  when  the  latter 
was  alarmed  by  hearing  her  companion  shriek.  She  gazed  at 
him  with  a  look  of  horror  imprinted  upon  her  features  ;  a  huge 
black  snake,  which  had  been  nestling  amongst  the  long  grass  at 
the  base  of  the  rocks,  had  suddenly  coiled  itself  around  Harry, 
and  was  hissing  furiously  and  darting  its  fangs  at  his  legs.  Zu 
leika,  in  her  turn,  gave  vent  to  a  piercing  scream,  which  brought 
a  negro  belonging  to  the  plantation,  who  was  fortunately  within 
hearing,  to  their  assistance.  Meanwhile,  the  venomous  reptile 
had  made  its  escape.  Zuleika  stood  transfixed  with  terror  ;  but 
Harry  had  fainted. 

The  former  soon  recovered  herself  and  saw  that  the  negro, 
observing  the  marks  of  the  fangs  of  the  reptile  in  Harry's  trow- 
sers  had  wisely  drawn  off  his  boots,  for  the  purpose  of  applying 
such  herbs  as  long  practice  had  taught  these  simple  creatures 
were  an  antidote  to  the  poison  of  the  most  deadly  snake,  if 
applied  in  time.  The  boots,  however,  which  Harry  had  put  on 
that  day  for  the  purpose  of  protecting  his  legs  from  the  various 
prickly  shrubs  which  so  abound  in  these  Islands,  had  happily 


THE  CABIN  BOY'S  STORY.  107 

resisted  the  efforts  of  the  reptile,  and  excepting  the  fright  he 
had  sustained,  he  was  unharmed. 

"Don't  fear,  Senorita  Zuleika,"  said  the  negro,  "  de  boy  is 
not  hurt ;  only  de  fright  he  hab  got.  By  de  holy  virgin,  Seno 
rita,  it  would  be  pity  such  a  foot  and  leg  as  Senor  Harry  hab 
got  should  be  bit  by  de  snake  and  poisoned.  G'ah — it  is  like  a 
senora's — so  white  and  delicate." 

"  Carry  him  home  to  •  the  cottage,  Ninez,"  said  Zuleika. 
"  Poor  fellow  ;  he  has  fainted  away  ;  no  wonder  !  Make  haste 
and  carry  him  to  the  cottage  that  we  may  apply  restoratives. 
You  had  better  call  for  some  one  to  assist  you." 

"  No  matter,  Senorita — no  matter,'7  replied  the  burly  black, 
lifting  the  light  form  of  Harry  as  though  it  were  a  feather 
weight.  "  Golly  1  Senorita,  he  is  no  more  weight  den  you-sef 
— light  as  a  girl." 

Ninez  quickly  bore  the  fainting  form  of  the  lad  to  the  cottage, 
followed  by  Zuleika,  and  by-her  direction  placed  him  on  a  couch 
in  the  apartment.  He  was  about  to  summon  one  of  the 
negresses,  but  was.  prevented  by  Zuleika,  who  saw  that  Harry 
showed  symptoms  of  coming  to  himself. 

"  Let  him  lie  there,  Ninez,"  said  she,  "he  will  soon  be  better. 
See,  iie  is  opening  his  eyes.  I  will  undo  his  vest  and  shirt  col 
lar,  and  bathe  his  face  with  water.  He  will  soon  be  well  again  ; 
poor  fellow  !  no  wonder  he  was  frightened  at  the  dreadful  rep 
tile.  He  has  perhaps  never  seen  one  of  them  before," 

The  negro  left  the  room  as  he  was  directed  and  Zuleika  com 
menced  to  unfasten  the  upper  portions  of  Harry's  clothing  and 
to  bathe  his  face  with  water. 

In  a  moment  she  started  and  looked  bewildered.  Her  face 
flushed  crimson  and  she  stepped  to  the  door,  as  though  about  to 
call  for  assistance,  but  she  returned  again  and  gazed  upon  the 
fainting  boy's  features,  earnestly — intently.  Harry  opened  his 
eyes  and  saw  her  bending  over  him. 

"  Where  am  I  ? "  said'  he.  "  Oh  !  I  recollect  that  frightful 
reptile  !  but  you  are  not  hurt  Zuleika  ?  We  are  safe  now. 
How  did  we  escape  the  serpent  ?  Zuleika,  what  ails  you  ? n 
he  suddenly  exclaimed,  starting  up  from  the  couch.  "  You  are 
pallid  as  death — tell  me  you  are  not  hurt  ?  "  In  a  moment 
some  strange  idea  seemed  to  flash  though  his  mind  ;  he  glanced 
at  his  shirt  collar  unbuttoned,  the  breast  thrown  open,  and  his 
features,  but  a  moment  before  pale  as  the  young  girl's,  flushed 
crimson  to  the  very  temples..  He  endeavored  to  speak,  but  the 
words  stuck  in  his  throat  and  he  could  not  give  them  utterance 


108  THE  CABIN  BOY'S  STORY. 

He  advanced  towards  the  girl,  but  she  pushed  his  extended 
hand  from  her  with  a  fury  that  he  had  not  supposed  her  capa 
ble  of.  All  the  latent  fire  of  her  Greek  nature  flashed  in  her 
eyes.  "  Go,"  she  said.  "  Go  hence — touch  me  not.  Ah!  was 
it  a  fable  you  told  me  ?  You  have  shattered  my  idol,  even  at 
the  moment  when  I  worshipped  it  with  the  most  trusting  devo 
tion."  She  flung  herself  on  a  couch  and  gave  way  to  a  flood  of 
tears,  while  the  cause  of  this  distress  stood  gazing  upon  her, 
motionless  and  pale  as  a  marble  statue,  for  the  color  had  now 
fled  from  his  brow,  and  his  heart  had  sunk  within  him.  He  was 
speechless — overpowered  by  a  variety  of  contrary  and  almost 
stiffling  emotions. 


CHAPTER  XI. 

Captain  Junot  relates  his  mishaps  in  consequence  of  falling  in  with  a 
cruiser — Captain  Seymour  visits  Annabon — The  secret  is  kept  from 
him — Harry  is  left  with  Zuleika — A  slave  drove — The  Yunga  Jagos 
woman  and  the  lions  in  the  cane-brake — Seymour  nearly  catches  a 
Tartar. 

"  HILLOA,  Junot,  what  the  d I's  the  row  ?"  shouted  Cap 
tain  Seymour,  as  the  pinnace  came  up  alongside  the  Dolphin. 
"  You've  been  in  the  wars,  it  seems.  Where  did  you  meet 
with  the  mishap  ?" 

"  Mille  lonnerres  Seymour,  Es'ce  vous  ?  •  You  have  escaped 
then  ;  but  come  on  board,  mon  ami,  and  I  will  tell  you." 

The  sails  of  the  pinnace  were  lowered,  and  a  rope  having 
been  thrown  her  from  the  deck  of  the  Dolphin,  she  came  along 
side.  Captain  Seymour  came  on  board,  and  then  the  boat  was 
dropped  astern,  and  the  two  captains  walked  aft  to  the  quarter 
deck  together. 

"  Now,  Junot,"  said  Captain  Seymour,  "  let's  hear  the  news, 
I  see  you've  been  at  close  quarters  with  somebody;  when  I  first 
sighted  you  I  thought  you  had  met  with  bad  weather,  but  as  I 
came  up  I  saw  signs  of  another  sort  of  conflict." 

"  I  have  fallen  in  with  those  cursed  English  cruisers  and  had 
a  narrow  chance  of  capture  too  ;  luckily  the  Dolphin  has  a  good 
pair  of  heels,  in  a  light  breeze,  and  those  lumbering  British 
crafts,  d — n  'em,  they  can't  sail  unless  they  have  the  tail  end  of 
a  hurricane  blowing  at  their  sterns." 


THE  CABIN  BOY'S  STORY.  109 

"  The  d — 1!  How  was  it,  Junot  ?"  inquired  Captain  Seymour. 

"  Why,  you  see,  some  days  after  you  and  I  parted  company, 
I  hauled  my  wind,  thinking  I'd  kept  out  of  the  way  long  enough 
to  throw  the  cruisers  off  the  scent,  and  knowing  a  chap  in  Li 
beria  had  smuggled  a  lot  of  em-incipados,  who  had  been  sent  on 
shore  from  a  slaver  a  short  time  before,  to  an  assignee  on  the 
Ivory  coast,  for  the  purpose  of  selling  'em  over  again,  I  thought 
I  would  try  if  I  couldn't  make  a  spec  with  them  before  I  ran 
down  to  Loango.  Well,  a  few  days  afterwards,  I  made  Cape 
Pal  mas,  keeping  close  in  shore  so  as  to  hug  the  coast  all  the 
way  along,  and  satisfy  myself  that  there  were  no  cruisers  lurking 
about :  when  dlable!  just  as  I  doubled  Cape  Tabou,  what  should 
I  see  but  the  two  infernal  brigs,  both  lying  off  and  on  in  the 
bay,  their  boats  being  ashore  watering.  It  was  before  daylight 
in  the  morning,  and  the  land  being  high  thereabouts  and  they 
close  under  it,  I.  never  saw  them  till  they  had  me  hi  the  trap,  al 
though,  curse  them,  they  had  seen  the  Dolphin  in  the  offing.  The 
first  I  knew  of  their  proximity  was,  bang — bang — bang  ;  by 
G — d,  a  whole  broadside  poured  into  the  Dolphin,  though  luck 
ily  the  shots  were  fired  too  high  ;  they  wanted  to  hit  the  lower 
masts  and  topmasts,  and  the  d — Is  only  managed  to  carry  away 
my  top-gallant  masts.  As  soon  as  the  smoke  cleared  away  a 
bit?  and  I  recovered  from  my  astonishment  at  this  warm  recep 
tion,  I  saw  plainly  enough  both  crafts  loosing  their  courses — 
they  were  only  under  their  topsails,  but  were  setting  their  top 
gallant  sails  to  make  chase. 

"  You  may  be  sure  I  backed  out  fast  enough  and  got  clear 
of  the  point  before  they  had  got  their  boats  aboard  and  were 
ready  to  follow  me.  They  thought  they  had  disabled  me,  no 
doubt,  and  therefore  wen't  in  any  groat  hurry  ;  but  they  were 
deceived.  The  Dolphin  was  too  much  for  them,  even  without 
her  top-gallant  sails,  and  after  a  few  hours'  chase,  in  the  course 
of  which  I  ran  them  nearly  hull  down,  they  returned  into  port, 
and  I  shaped  the  best  of  my  course  here.  Now  you  have  heard 
all  I  have  got-to  say." 

"  Damnation  !"  exclaimed  Seymour,  stamping  his  foot  with 
vexation.  "  We  shall  have  them  down  upon  us  here,  both  toge 
ther  ;  and  here  have  I  got  my  cargo  of  darkies  all  ready  for 
shipment.  This  is  a  d — 1  of  a  job." 

"  I  don't  think  there's  any  cause  for  alarm,  Monsieur  Capi- 
taine,"  replied  Junot.  "  They've  been  cruising  off  here  for 
several  weeks,  and  old  Kettle  has  thrown  them  off  the  scent. 
My  opinion  is,  that  having  seen  me  off  Tabou,  they'll  search 


110  THE  CABIN  BOY'S  STORY. 

the  whole  length  of  the  Ivory  and  Gold  Coasts,  down  to  Cape 
Coast  Castle — thinking  that  it  is  thereabouts  we  are  likely  to 
search  for  our  freight.  To  my  knowledge  there  is  a  lot  of  Por 
tuguese  craft  hanging  about  there,  and  they'll  be  so  busy  with 
them  that  they'll  give  us  plenty  of  time  to  be  off  from  this. 
That's  why  I  shaped  my  course  here,  as  soon  as  I  got  out  of  the 
sight  of  the  cape.  Altogether,  there's  not  much  harm  clone, 
except  the  loss  of  my  top-gallant  spars." 

"  If  that's  all,  I  can  soon  replace  them.  I  was  just  going  off 
to  Annabon,  but  I'll  return  on  shore  and  put  things  in  train 
first,  in  case  of  accident." 

Seymour  gave  orders  for  the  pinnace  to  be  hauled  alongside, 
and  getting  on  board  he  returned  to  the  town,  the  Dolphin 
meanwhile  coming  to  an  anchor  in  the  bay  a  short  distance  from 
the  Albatross. 

Under  the  present  circumstances  Captain  Seymour  thought 
it  advisable  to  proceed  with  the  shipment  of  his  cargo  of  slaves 
without  delay  ;  that  is  to  say,  he  caused  them  to  be  put  on 
board  immediately,  with  the  exception  of  some  of  the  women, 
among  whom  was  the  Yunga  Jagos  woman,  whom  he  thought  it 
was  perhaps  advisable  to  allow  to  remain  on  shore,  and  to  re 
cruit  their  strength  as  much  as  possible  before  they  were  con 
signed  to  the  horrible  packing  of  a  slave  ship's  hold,  even  under 
the  most  favorable  circumstances.  The  slaves  daily  expected 
from  Quaddah  he  ordered  to  be  also  taken  on  board  as  soon  as 
they  arrived,  with  the  exception  of  such  of  the  females  as  might 
have  become  fatigued  and  weakened  during  the  journey  ;  these 
were  to  be  placed  with  the  other  women,  and  every  means  em 
ployed  to  restore  them  to  health,  and  having  thus  arranged 
matters,  ordering  Mr.  Tolcroft,  in  case  he  heard  anything  of  the 
arrival  of  the  cruisers  in  the  neighborhood,  to  take  all  on  board 
forthwith,  and  to  proceed  to  Annabon  and  lay  off  and  on  for 
him,  he  left,  in  the  pinnace,  for  that  island.  He  resolved  that 
he  would  not,  under  any  circumstances,  disappoint  Zuleika, 
although  he  feared  that  his  promised  visit  would  be  necessarily 
much  abridged.  Meanwhile  Captain  Junot,  having  been  pro 
vided  with  rough  spars  from  the  Albatross,  set  his  carpenter  to 
work  to  make  new  top-gallant  masts  and  yards,  and  busied  him 
self  in  hastening  the  chiefs  in  their  exertions  to  procure  him  a 
cargo. 

The  passage  of  the  pinnace  to  the  island  was  effected  as  rap 
idly  as  upon  the  former  occasion — and  late  one  evening,  within 
the  specified  period  of  six  weeks,  the  boat  was  grounded  in  the 


Ill 

little  bay  which  formed  the  only  harbor,  and  Seymour  leaped  on 
shore,  eager  as  he  ever  was,  to  meet  the  only  object  of  his  love, 
and  hurried  on  through  the  darkness  to  the  cottage  of  Zuleika, 

.Nearly  three  weeks  had  elapsed  since  the  evening  on  which 
the  attack  of  the  venomous  snake  upon  Harry  had  led  to  the 
singular  conduct  of  Zuleika,  after  she  had  caused  the  fainting 
boy  to  be  carried  into  her  own  private  apartment  by  the  negro 
Mnez.  The  reader  will  recollect  that  we  left  Zuleika  in  tears 
upon  the  couch,  and  Harry  standing  gazing  upon  her,  scarcely 
conscious,  and  utterly  unable  to  reply  to  her  invectives. 

Several  minutes  he  stood  thus;  at  length  he  ventured  to  ap 
proach  the  weeping  girl,  and  gently  took  her  hand. 

"  Dear  Zuleika,"  he  said,  "  do  not  repulse  me.  I  am  suffi 
ciently  wretched ;  indeed  I  am  incapable  of  doing  or  thinking 
of  evil  towards  you." 

The  young  girl's  hand  trembled  in  his  grasp,  and  a  convul 
sive  shudder  passed  through  her  frame.  She  had  ceased  weep 
ing,  but  her  bosom  was  violently  heaving,  showing  the  intensity 
of  the  feelings  that  were  burning  within.  She  burst  into  a  re 
newed  fit  of  weeping  as  he  spoke,  and  at  first  made  a  motion  to 
withdraw  her  hand;  but  it  was  not  withdrawn. 

"Leave  me,"  she  sobbed,  "leave  me.  Oh,  my  God — I  can 
not  talk  to-night.  Leave  me  to  myself.  I  will  try  to  sleep. 
To-morrow  I  will  see  you;  and — Harry — God  grant  you  may 
be  able  satisfactorily  to  account  for  yourself." 

Harry  did  not  offer  to  remain — he  knew — he  felt — that  at 
present  the  poor  child  would  be  best  left  to  herself ;  but  he 
stopped  and  kissed  her  brow,  and  whispered  in  her  ear: 

"  Believe  me,  Zuleika,  all  will  be  explained — all  will  be  well 
with  you,.  Seymour  loves  you  devotedly.  I  have  had-  proof 
of  that.  I  alone  am  doomed  to  wretchedness." 

Harry,  as  well  as  the  young  Greek  girl,  pressed  a  sleepless 
couch  that  night,  as  the  haggard  looks  of  both  in  the  morning 
sufficiently  testified.  According  to  Zuleika's  expressed  wish, 
Harry  met  her  on  the  morrow;  he  was  startled  by  the  expres 
sion  of  her  countenance — so  grief-worn,  so  dejected.  Poor 
girl!  she  had  passed  a  night  of  intense  anguish,  felt  all  the 
more  severely  because  it  was  the  first  real  sorrow  she  had 
ever  known.  Heretofore  her  life — at  least  since  she  had  passed 
the  age  of  childhood — had  been  as  a  sunbeam,  flitting  hither 
and  thither,  enlivening  all  it  gleamed  upon.  The  little  troubles 
she  had  known  had  been  merely  as  the  specks  in  the  sunbeam, 
which  slightly  mar  its  transparency,  without  impairing  its 


112  THE  CABIN  BOY'S  STORY. 

lightness  and  beauty.  Now  it  appeared  to  her  as  though  her 
young  heart  was  crushed;  as  she  had  expressed  herself  in  her 
first  burst  of  passion  to  Harry — now  her  idol  was  shattered  ; 
the  anchor,  to  the  firmness  of  which  she  had  trusted  her  hopes, 
had  been  broken.  She  had  lost  "  her  hope,  her  life,  her  joy, 
her  all,"  and  she  felt  as  though  that  one  blow  was  sufficient  to 
render  her  future  life  wretched. 

She  received  Harry  in  her  own  apartment,  and  for  some 
hours  they  remained  together.  It  was  past  iioon  when  they 
came  forth.  Harry  was  calm  and  composed,  and  the  deep 
gloom  had  left  the  brow  of  Zuleika  ;  but  a  shade  of  melan 
choly,  unusual  to  her  features,  still  rested  upon  them,  and  a 
strange  perplexity,  as  if  she  could  scarcely  yet  understand 
what  had  been  revealed  to  her  in  that  secret  interview,  was 
apparent  in  her  countenance. 

Still  it  was  evident  that  confidence  had  been  restored  ;  nay, 
more  than  confidence  ;  for  the  arm  of  Harry  was  entwined 
around  the  slender  waist  of  his  companion,  and  her  hand  rested 
lovingly  upon  his  shoulder  ;  and  from  time  to  time  the  Greek 
girl  raised  her  head  towards  Harry's  face,  and  a  glance  of  pity, 
mingled  with  the  expression  of  perplexity  already  noticed. 
They  wandered  towards  the  sea  beach,  and  strolled  for  some 
hours  along  the  pebbly  shore. 

"  And  you  are  sure,  quite  sure  that  he  loves  me,  as  you 
say  ?"  said  Zuleika,  in  reply  to  some  remark  from  her  com 
panion. 

"  Quite  sure,"  replied  the  other.  "  Oh,  Znleika,  I  felt  as 
you  did,  yesterday,  when  I  first  saw  that  picture  in  the  locket." 

"  And  he  so  much  admired  the  picture  ?"  said  the  girl,  her 
beautiful  features  losing,  for  a  time,  their  melancholy  expres 
sion,  and  lighting  up  into  a  delighted  smile. 

"  He  did  ;  who  could  help  admiring  it  ?"  answered  Harry, 
kindly  ;  "  and  he  told  me  I  should,  perhaps,  one  day  see  the 
original,  and  bade  me  not  be  jealous;"  and  Harry  smiled  as  he 
spoke.  "Zuleika,"  he  added,  "lam  not  flattering  you — but 
had  I  been  what  both  you  and  he  deemed  me,  he  might  have 
had  reason  for  his  warning." 

The  young  girl  blushed,  and  innocently,  yet  archly,  asked: 

"  Do  you,  then,  think  me  so  very  beautiful  ?" 

"I  do." 

"  Oh,  I  am  so  glad  of  it  !" 

"Why,  Zuleika?" 

"  For  George's  sake,"  she  replied;  "  but  you  are  very  beau- 


THE    CABIN    BOY'S    STORY.  113 

tiful,  Harry — even  disguised  as  you  are.  Are  your  country 
women  handsome  ?" 

"Many  of  them  exceedingly  so;  but  few,  very  few  can  boast 
of  beauty  such  as  yours." 

Again  the  girl  blushed,  and  falteringly  remarked : 

"  Perhaps  George  may  think  some  of  them  more  beautiful 
than  me." 

"  Set  your  heart  at  rest  on  that  score,  dear  Zuleika,"  replied 
Harry;  "  Captain  Seymour,  I  have  reason  to  know,  loves  you 
with  a  love  that  cannot  be  surpassed.  If  you  can  be  happy 
living  in  the  knowledge  of  his  love,  you  may  well  be  so."  He 
turned  aside  his  head  and  thought  to  himself,  li  God  grant, 
poor,  artless,  confiding  child,  that  the  misfortunes  which 
threaten  you  in  the  future  may  never  burst  upon  your  head — • 
better  before  that  day  arrive  that  you  be  laid  quietly  at  rest  in 
your  grave." 

It  is  time,  so  far  as  the  reader  is  concerned,  that  we  raised 
the  veil  of  mystery  which  has  thus  far  surrounded  Henry 
Davis — or  Jane  Miller — for  ere  this  he  must  have  seen  through 
the  filmy  gauze.  There  are  yet  enough  strange  mysteries  con 
nected  with  our  tale  to  allow  of  our  raising  the  curtain  and 
exposing  this.  Harry's  sex  was  known  to  Zuleika,  but  to  her 
alone  ;  it  was  a  long,  long  period,  and  many  strange  scenes 
were  passed  through  ere  Captain  Seymour  was  aware  of  the  fact. 

When  Jane  Miller,  therefore,  had  quitted  Zuleika  on  the  oc 
casion  mentioned  above,  and  had  returned  to  her  own  apart 
ment,  she  struggled  long  and  arduously  with  her  own  feelings 
as  to  the  course  she  should  pursue.  She  felt  convinced  of  the 
innocence  and  artlessness  of  the  young  Greek  girl,  and  believed 
that  she  could  easily  satisfy  her  with  regard  to  the  strong  af 
fection  Captain  Seymour  entertained  towards  her.  She  deeply 
pitied  her  in  her  heart,  for  she  knew  nothing  of  the  circumstances 
connected  with  her  history — nothing  of  her  marriage  by  the 
Portuguese  padre  on  the  island  of  Annabon — and  she  did  not 
therefore  know  that  she  was  in  reality  Seymour's  wife.  This 
she  learnt  on  the  morrow,  and  while,  for  Zuleika's  sake,  in  one 
sense,  she  was  glad  to  hear  it,  she  perhaps  pitied  her  still  the 
more.  She  at  first  resolved  in  her  own  mind  that  she  would  tell 
her  all  :  that  she  would  expose  Seymour's  character  to  her, 
and  teach  her  the  true  worth  of  the  man  upon  whom  she  had 
bestowed  the  whole  treasure  of  her  innocent  love — for  Jane 
Miller  was  but  human,  and  she  could  not  help,  in  spite  of  her 
self,  feeling  a  degree  of  jealousy  which,  in  the  first  instance, 


114  THE    CABIN    BOY'S    STORY. 

had  approached  to  the  verge  of  hatred  towards  her  successful 
although  innocent   and  unconscious  rival  ;   but  this  had  died 
away,  and  had  been  succeeded,  as  we  have  said,  by  a  feeling 
of  pity  and  deep  sorrow  for  the  future  prospects  of  one  whom 
she  was  conscious  deserved  a  happier  fate  than  that  which  was 
probably  in  store  for  her  ;   one  who  was,  by  education  and 
natural  temperament,  so  little  calculated  to  endure  the  burden 
of  a  broken  spirit  ;  but  she  changed  her  mind,  and  finally  de 
termined  that  she  would  only  explain  the  reasons  which  led  her 
to  quit  her  home  on  so   wild,  so  unmaidenly  an  adventure. 
She  knew  that,  by  acting  as  she  had  done,  and  thus  boldly 
repudiating  the  conventionalities  of  the  social  frame-work  of 
civilized  society,  she  had  forfeited  all  claim  to  the  respect  of 
her  own  sex  at  home  ;  but  she  knew  that  the  artless  yet  ardent 
Greek  girl,  would  think  but  lightly  of  this — that  she  came 
from  a  people  who  listen  not  to  the  cold  dictates  of  reason 
when    the  feelings   of  the   heart    are    stirred — and   she  then 
thought  it  her  duty  to  set  the  heart  of  the  poor  child  at  rest  ; 
to  assure  her  of  Seymour's  love  for  her,  and  her  alone,  and 
then  to  let  the  matter  rest,  deeming  wisely,  that  "  sufficient  to 
the  day  is  the  evil  thereof."     Accordingly  Zuleika  was  told 
that  she  (Jane  Miller)  had  loved  Seymour,  and  had  resolved 
to  follow  him  to  sea,  with  what  purpose  she  scarcely  knew;  but 
to  carry  out  this  object  she  had  forsaken  all — mother,  home, 
and  friends — but  she  had  discovered,  by  means  of  the  locket 
containing  the  portrait,  that  he  loved  another  too  dearly  for 
his  affections  ever  to  be  transferred,  and  she  had   therefore 
resolved  to  bury  her  secret  in  her  own  bosom — to  declare  it  to 
no  one — had  not  Zuleika  so  singularly  discovered  it.     All  this 
seemed  plausible  enough,  even  right,  and  as  she  would  herself  have 
acted  to  the  artless,  warm-blooded,  ardent  Greek  girl,  utterly 
ignorant  of  the  conventionalities  of  life.     She  listened,  doubted, 
and  last  avowed  her  full  belief  and  confidence  in  the  narrator 
Thus  matters  rested  when  the  two  girls  walked  out  on  the  sea 
beach  of  the  island  together. 

"  And  now,"  s&id  Jane,  "  to  you  alone,  dear  Zuleika,  have  1 
entrusted  this  secret  ;  it  is  yours  to  keep  locked  within  your 
breast.  No  si^n  must  be  made,  no  word  spoken  in  the 
presence  of  others,  which  may  lead  to  an  exposure.  I  have  told 
you  all  in  confidence.  I  have  trusted  to  your  generosity.  You 
must  not  betray  me." 

"  And  I  will  not,"  replied  Zuleika,  pressing  the  hand  of  her 
companion. 


\      THE  CABIN  BOY'S  STORY.  115 

"  And  you  will  call  me  Harry  still,  and  treat  me,  at  least 
before  others,  and  especially  before  your  bus before  Cap 
tain  Seymour,  as  you  have  hitherto  clone."  (She  could  not  yet 
bring  herself  to  acknowledge  Seymour  to  be  the  husband  of 
Zuleika.  Indeed,  she  believed  still  that  the  poor  girl  had  been 
duped.) 

"  I  will,"  answered  the  girl  ;  "  but,"  she  continued,  "  you  will 
go  home  in  George's  ship,  and  go  to  your  mother's  home 
again  ?" 

"  Alas  !  I  dare  not  return  home  again.  You,  Zuleika,  are 
ignorant — happily,  perhaps,  ignorant  of  the  regulations  of 
society  as  it  exists  amongst  us.  No,  no,  I  have  for  ever  placed 
a  barrier  between  myself  and  those  near  and  dear  to  me.  I 
shall  not  stay  longer  than  I  can  help  with  Captain  Seymour.  I 
shall  go  to  Cuba  or  the  Brazilian  coast,  for  thither  is  the 
Albatross  bound,  and  not  to  the  United  States;  but  my  future 
is  a  blank  " — and  she  mentally  added,  "  as  I  fear,  my  poor 
child,  yours  is  also." 

The  mournful  tone  in  which  she  spake  drew  tears  to  the 
eyes  of  Zuleika.  She  walked  on  in  silence  for  some  moments. 
At  length  she  said  : 

"  Then  why  not  remain  here  with  me  ?  George  said,  when 
last  he  was  here,  he  would  get  me  a  companion.  If  I  ask  him, 
he  will  allow  you  to  remain  here  until  he  gives  up  the  sea." 

"  He  did  not  mean  a  companion  such  as  he  conceives  me  to 
be,"  replied  Jane,  mournfully  smiling  :  "  you  forget,  Zuleika  ; 
he  thinks  of  me  still  as  his  cabin  boy." 

"  Still,  if  I  ask  him,  he  will  let  you  stay — at  least  until  he 
returns  with  the  companion  he  has  promised  me.  I  will  ask 
him  :  of  that  I  am  determined  ;  but  you  will  stay,  will  you  not," 
she  added — "  you  will  stay  if  he  gives  you  permission  ?" 

The  idea  had  not,  heretofore,  struck  Jane  ;  but  she  had 
begun  to  feel  her  solitary  position  in  the  world.  She  now  felt 
how  utterly  she  had  isolated  herself,  and  she  replied  : 

"  Yes  ;  if  without  my  seeking,  Captain  Seymour  is  desirous 
at  your  request,  that  I  should  stay,  dear  Zuleika,  I  will." 

That  beach  was,  henceforward,  the  customary  and  favorite 
walk  of  the  young  women  ;  for  no  persuasions  of  Zuleika 
could  again  tempt  Jane  to  venture  into  the  cane-brakes  ;  and 
here,  in  the  cool  of  the  evening,  they  daily  strolled,  chatting 
together  on  various  subjects  connected  with  America  and  the 
customs  of  other  lands  ;  but  the  burden  of  every  theme  of 


116 

conversation  was  sure  to  resolve  itself  in  the  end,  on  the  part 
of  Zuleika,  into  praises  of  George  Seymour. 

One  evening,  while  thus  strolling,  just  as  they  were  on  the 
point  of  going  home  to  the  cottage,  Zuleika's  practised  eye 
discovered  the  white  sail  of  Seymour's  pinnace  in  the  distance, 
although,  to  Jane  Miller,  it  appeared  only  like  the  white  wing 
of  a  sea  bird,  hovering  low  down  in  the  horizon.  Zuleika, 
however,  was  certain  that  it  was  he,  returned  to  pay  his 
promised  visit,  and  she  lingered  until  the  boat  drew  near 
enough  to  render  assurance  doubly  sure — then  she  and  Jane 
hastened  to  the  bay  into  which  the  boat  had  entered,  which 
was  a  long  distance  from  their  accustomed  walk,  and  they  met 
the  captain  just  as  he  had  turned  off  from  the  beach  in  the 
direction  of  the  cottage. 

One  moment  more,  and  Zuleika  was  in  his  arms,  and  nest 
ling  like  a  young  bird  on  his  bosom. 

"Ah!  rny  Zuleika — you  here  to  meet  me?  By  my  faith, 
darling,  but  I  wish  I  had  half  a  score  of  such  trusty  watchers 
on  board  the  Albatross.  And  so  you  saw  the  pinnace  coming 
into  the  bay,  did  you  ?  and  Harry,  here,  too  !  Well,  Harry, 
how  have  you  and  Zuleika  managed  to  get  along  together  ? 
Does  Harry  speak  Castdla.no  yet,  Zuleika  ?  If  he  doesn't,  he 
must  have  been  a  sad  laggard,  and  deserves  to  be  whipped." 

Thus  gaily  conversing,  the  captain,  with  Zuleika  hanging 
delightedly  upon  his  arm,  and  Jane  Miller  walking  behind, 
strolled  leisurely  on  towards  the  cottage,  and  as  they  neared 
the  plantation,  the  negroes  rushed  out  with  shouts  of  delight 
to  welcome  his  return. 

A  sigh  escaped  from  Seymour's  breast  : 

"  How  happy  could  I  be,  even  here,  with  Zuleika,  would 
fortune  and  fate  allow  me  such  a  haven  of  rest,"  he  thought 
to  himself  ;  "  but  no  ;  it  must  not  be  yet,  it  may  never  be." 

The  joy  of  the  young  bride  was  considerably  damped,  how 
ever,  when  she  learnt  that,  owing  to  unforeseen  circumstances, 
her  husband's  visit  must  of  necessity  be  considerably  abridged, 
and  that  two  or  three  days  at  the  furthest  was  all  the  time  he 
could  spare.  "  But  it  will  not,  let  us  hope,  be  much  longer, 
my  Zuleika,"  he  added. 

"  One  or  two  voyages  more — a  year  or  two  at  furthest — and 
then  love,  we  shall  be  always  together."  A  year  or  two  at 
furthest  !  Who  can  venture  to  predict  what  a  year  or  two  may 
bring  forth. 


THE    CABIN    BOY'S    STORY.  117 

But  noticing  the  poor  child's  dejected  looks,  he  added. 
"  Cheer  up  Zuleika — I  will  not  forget  to  bring  you  out  the  com 
panion  I  spake  of — and  then  you  will  have  some  one  to  converse 
with  while  I  am  absent.  Poor  little  thing  ! "  and  he  patted  her 
head  and  took  her  upon  his  knee,  as  if  she  had  been  really  but 
a  child,  and  he  her  father.  "  You  must  be  very  dull  and  lone 
some  here.  Never  mind,  darling,  you  shall  have  gayer  times 
in  future." 

The  young  girl  strove  to  be  cheerful  ;  her  gloom  was  al 
ways  of  brief  duration,  and  in  a  few  minutes  she  was  prattling 
cheerfully — happy  in  the  present,  forgetful  of  the  past,  and 
heedless  of  the  future.  During  the  evening  the  captain  spoke 
of  Harry — and  learnt  from  Zuleika,  that  he  had  been  a  plea 
sant  companion  to  her. 

"Will  you  not  leave  him  here,  at  least  during  this  voyage, 
until  you  get  me  another  companion  ?"  she  asked. 

The  captain  smiled. 

"  Really,"  said  he,  "  I  shall  have  reason  to  grow  jealous  of 
Harry,  I  am  afraid.  Why,  what  a  notion,  darling  !  I  must 
first  get  Harry's  acquiescence — the  boy  may  not  choose  to  be 
left  here,  even  with  my  Zuleika  for  a  companion." 

"Oh  !  I  am  sure  he  will  consent,"  exclaimed  Zuleika. 

For  a  moment  a  strange  suspicion  seemed  to  have  taken  pos 
session  of  Seymour's  mind,  but  he  looked  into  the  clear,  soft, 
dark  eyes  of  the  girl,  and  smiled  contemptuously  at  his  own 
surmises.  Strange  to  say  ;  he  had  from  the  first  treated  Harry 
as  a  pet  child  rather  than  as  one  of  the  crew,  and  the  man  who 
would  have  struck  fiercely  to  the  ground  any  other  person  of 
the  male  sex,  man  or  boy,  who  would  have  dared  to  have  looked 
with  even  too  ardent  admiration  upon  Zuleika,  was  content  to 
trust  her  in  Harry's  keeping. 

"  If  Harry  pleases,  mi  tesora,  it  shall  be  so  ;  but  as  I  said, 
we  must  get  his  consent." 

The  next  day  Seymour  put  the  question  to  Harry,  who  thought 
it  advisable  at  first  somewhat  to  demur. 

"  I  should  not  object  to  stay  here  a  few  months  with  Senorita 
Zuleika"  said  he  (while  speaking  of  Jane  Miller  in  her  assumed 
character,  we  shall  continue  to  make  use  of  the  masculine  gender), 
"but  who  will  do  my  duties  on  board  the  Albatross  ?  " 

"Why,  Harry"  said  the  captain,  laughing,  "you  must  as 
suredly  entertain  a  high  opinion  of  yourself,  as  a  valuable 
hand  on  board  the  ship.  Frank  will  go  back  to  his  old 
duties  until  the  ship  arrives  at  the  Brazils,  when  I  will  pro- 


118  THE    CABIN    BOY'S    STORY. 

cure  a  steward — that  is  if  you  feel  inclined  to  return  ;  but 
please  yourself,  boy,  I  have  no  desire  to  force  you." 

"  Iii  that  case  I  have  no  objection  to  stay,"  said  Harry. 

"  Well  then,  that  matter  is  settled  ;  but  mind,  boy,  you  know 
the  character  of  my  vessel  and  "the  nature  of  the  service  ill 
which  I  am  engaged.  Not  a  word — not  a  hint  of  this  to  Zu- 
leika — or  else  you  may  dread  my  anger." 

Harry  promised  to  keep  silence  on  this  subject,  and  they 
parted,  the  captain  being  anxious  to  return  to  the  short-lived 
society  of  his  idol. 

"  Let  the  world  think  of  me  as  it  may.  Let  my  soul  be 
steeped  in  crime  ;  whatever  befals  me,  I  would  be  pure  and 
true  in  Zuleika's  eyes,"  he  muttered  to  himself  as  he  walked 
towards  the  cottage.  "  I  would  rather  she  should  die,  that  I 
should  myself  die  a  thousand  deaths,  than  that  she  should  have 
the  faintest  suspicion  that  I  am  aught  else  than  an  honest  man. 
God  forbid,  she  should  know  me  as  I  am  now — whatever  I  may 
be  in  future. 

Two  days  after  this  Captain  Seymour  quitted  the  island  to 
return  to  his  vessel,  and  Zuleika  was  again  left  to  her  solitude — 
yet — not  now  to  her  former  solitude,  for  she  had,  though  her 
husband  knew  it  not,  a  female  companion. 

We  must  now  return  with  the  reader  to  the  coast,  where  the 
Albatross  and  the  Dolphin  were  taking  in  their  living  freight. 

Mr.  Tolcroft  had  made  strenuous  exertions  during  the  Cap 
tain's  absence,  and  when  he  returned  he  found  that  his  cargo 
was  complete — that  is,  that  he  had  as  many  negroes  as  he  could 
readily  take  on  board,  for  Captain  Seymour  abjured  what  is 
termed  "  close  packing,"  which  consists  in  making  a  row  of 
negroes  sit  with  legs  stretched  apart,  while  another  row  is 
packed  between  their  legs,  and  so  on  until  the  deck  is  filled. 
He  found  the  mortality  so  great  in  this  case,  that  of  late  he  had 
adopted  "  loose  packing,"  in  which  the  slaves  are  arranged  in 
four  ranks,  the  heads  of  the  two  outer  ranks  touching  the  sides 
of  the  ship,  their  feet  pointing  athwart  the  vessel,  while  another 
row  is  stowed  heads  against  their  feet,  in  the  same  fashion  on 
both  sides  ;  the  little  space  remaining  being  filled  up  by  negroes 
placed  lengthwise  between  the  feet  of  the  second  row  ;  thus 
each  slave  has  as  much  space  as  he  can  occupy  lying  ;  in  "  tight 
packing,"  only  as  much  as  he  occupies  sitting.  The  vessel  held 
considerably  fewer  by  this  stowage,  but  the  greater  portion 
were  thus  brought  in  a  better  condition  to  the  market,  and 
realized  considerably  more  in  the  sale,  although  even  in  this 


THE    CABIN    BOY'S    STORY.  119 

case,  on  first  starting,  until  the  negroes  got  used  to  the  diet 
and  to  the  motion  of  the  ship,  and  until  their  numbers  were 
thinned  out,  the  mortality  was  sometimes  very  great.  Such 
scenes,  when  the  deck  is  full,  surpass  description  in  their  sicken 
ing  horror.  Most  of  the  unhappy  creatures  are  sea-sick,  and 
when  tt  ^y  are  too  weak  to  be  brought  upon  deck  in  relays, 
the  filth  is  cleansed,  if  so  it  can  be  termed,  by  dashing  water 
amongst  them  as  they  lay  vomiting  and  groaning  and  dying 
around.  However,  we  will  leave  these  horrible  scenes  to  the 
reader's  imagination,  and  proceed  with  our  story. 

Fearful  of  the  visit  of  the  cruisers,  which  might  again  receive 
information  of  their  presence  on  the  coast,  both  Seymour  and 
Junot  were  anxious  to  get  away  as  quickly  as  possible  ;  and  as 
the  slaves  were  by  this  time  brought  to  the  coast  in  great 
abundance,  this  was  an  easy  matter.  Thus,  in  consequence  of 
Junot's  freight  being  ready  shortly  after  he  arrived,  both  vessels 
were  ready  to  sail  together. 

The  last  boats  took  off  the  women,  and  the  few  children  that 
had  been  purchased. 

Amongst  the  latter,  Captain  Junot  had  purchased  two 
infants,  both  seemingly  of  an  age,  and  both  mere  babes.  Their 
extreme  youth  attracted  the  notice  of  Seymour,  as  Junot  was 
carrying  them  on  board  the  boat  in  his  arms. 

"What  the  d 1  !"  exclaimed  Seymour,  laughing,  "Captain 

Junot  turned  wet  nurse.  Why,  Junot,  what  are  you  going  to 
do  with  that  bargain  ?  Bless  me,  why  they  surely  are  not  yet 
weaned  ! '' 

"  They  are  fine,  healthy  children  of  the  Yunga  Jagos  tribe," 
replied  Junot,  '^and  I  have  a  nurse  on  my  plantation  in  Cuba, 
who  will  bring  them  up  if  I  can  only  get  them  over  the  water 
alive.  I  shall  make  some  of  the  women  nurse  them.  I  got  the 
brats  cheap — and  perhaps  they'll  turn  out  a  good  speculation. 
If  not,  I  can  but  throw  them  overboard,  to  the  sharks  ;  they 
were  very  nearly  becoming  food  for  the  lions,  any  way." 

"  How  was  that  ?"  inquired  Seymour,  whose  curiosity  was 
excited.  "  I  heard  some  tale  of  that  sort  from  the  Mafookah 
at  Quaddah." 

"  Why  they  belong  to  a  woman  who  was  lately  brought  down 
to  the  coast — and  she,  it  appears,  lagged  behind  with  them,  and 
the  driver  snatched  them  from  her  and  threw  them  into  a  cane- 
brake.  He  had  been  alarmed  by  the  appearance  of  lions  just 
before,  and  he  was  afraid  of  losing  the  woman,  who  was  a  hand 
some  girl,  and  would  fetch  a  good  price.  But  somehow,  those 


120  THE    CABIN    BOY'S    STORY. 

beasts  are  easily  scared  ;  the  lions  must  have  got  frightened 
and  run  away  ;  for  another  driver  passing  by  shortly  after 
wards,  found  the  children  struggling  and  squalling  by  the  side 
of  the  cane-brake  He  picked  them  up.  He  thought  he  could 
at  least  get  a  few  hands  of  tobacco  for  them,  and  he  gave  them 
to  his  women  and  made  them  take  turns  to  carry  them  to  the 
depot — where  I  took  a  fancy  to  buy  them." 

"  And  a  strange  fancy,  too.  Why,  I  believe  I  have  bought 
the  mother  ;  that  handsome,  sleek-looking  negress  you  see  in 
the  stern-sheets  of  the  boat  there,  sulking,  with  her  head  bent 
on  her  knees.  She'll  soon  get  over  it,  though  ;  but  for  heaven's 
sakejteep  the  children  out  of  her  sight." 

"  Why  not  sell  me  the  woman  ?"  asked  Junot,  "  it'll  save  me 
a  good  deal  of  bother  with  the  children." 

"]STo,  no,  I  can't  part  with  her  ;  I  took  a  fancy  to  her  and 
bought  her  on  my  own  account.  She'll  fetch  a  rousing  price — 
she's  as  handsome  and  has  as  regular  features  as  a  quadroon — 
and  her  color  won't  make  much  odds  in  the  Brazils,  where  I 
am  bound." 

"  Buy  the  children  of  me  then  ?"  said  Junot. 

"  Oh,  no  !  pray  excuse  me,  Captain  Junot,  I  want  none  so 
young  as  them  on  board  the  Albatross  ;  I  wish  you  joy  of  your 
bargain.  Upon  my  word  you  are  a  fascinating  child's  nurse — • 
for  pity's  sake  don't  let  the  children  get  sight  of  your  face,"  and 
Seymour,  laughing  at  his  joke,  walked  towards  his  own  boat, 
which  lay  at  some  distance  from  that  of  Captain  Juuot. 

Both  boats,  however,  put  off  together,  and  the  motion  caus 
ed  the  infants  to  cry.  The  mother  heard  and  knew  the  wail  of 
her  infants'  voices,  borne  across  the  waters,  and  she  grew  fran 
tic.  It  was  with  difficulty  she  could  be  withheld  from  leaping 
overboard.  She  was,  however,  safely  lodged  on  board.  The 
next  day  the  vessels  sailed  in  company  and  for  two  days  they 
kept  together. 

"  That  are  spry-looking  lass  takes  on  terrible  about  her  chil 
dren,"  said  Mr.  Toicroft  to  his  commander  on  the  third  morn 
ing.  "Mr.  Allan  tells  me  she  won't  eat  anything — it's  my  opi 
nion  she  means  to  starve  herself." 

"  Bring  her  up  upon  deck  and  place  her  aft  here  ;  tie  her 
hands  through  to  one  of  the  stancheons,  or  else  she'll  be  jump 
ing  overboard.  How  do  the  negroes  get  on  generally,  Mr. 
Tolcrbft  ?" 

"  Why  passably  well  ;  ten  died  on  the  first  day  and  four  yes 
terday.  Allan  o;'lv  picked  out  two  dead  'uns  this  morning,  he 


THE    CABIN    BOY'S    STORY.  121 

tells  me — but  there's  three  or  four  gone  stone  blind  with  that 
disease  they  allers  catches  when  they  first  start — it  would  be 
just  as  well  to  heave  'em  overboard  at  once." 

"  Let  the  poor  d — Is  die  first,  Tolcroft;  I  never  could  fancy 
that  tossing  overboard  alive,  unless  in  case  of  some  great  emer 
gency.  Bring  up  the  woman,  however." 

"  I  allers  said  you  were  too  kind-hearted.  Captain  Seymour," 
replied  Tolcroft,  as  he  turned  to  execute  the  order.  "  For  my 
part,  I  goes  in  for  no  onnecessary  cruelty,  but  they  will  die  in 
a  day  or  two  at  any  rate,  and  it's  only  a  useless  consumption 
of  provisions.  Now  there's  Captain  Junot,  he " 

"  Captain  Junot  can  do  as  he  pleases  on  board  his  vessel,  as 
I  will  do  on  board  mine,"  interrupted  Seymour,  sharply;  "  bring 
up  the  woman." 

The  poor  creature  was  brought  up  and  fastened  to  a  stan- 
cheon  near  the  wheel. 

"  Hallo  !  What  the  devil  have  we  here,  the  cruisers  by 
Gr — d  !"  suddenly  exclaimed  Seymour,  as  two  sail  came  out 
from  beneath  a  headland,  along  which  the  two  slavers  were 
coasting.  "Junot  is  close  in  shore,  and  they'll  have  him  to  a 
certainty — the  fool  I  I  advised  him  to  keep  a  good  offing. 
Ha  1  all  hands  on  deck — -aloft  ;  make  sail  there.  We  must 
show  our  heels.  It'll  never  do  to  be  captured  with  all  these 
slaves  on  board,"  shouted  the  captain  ;  and  in  a  few  moments 
all  was  bustle  and  confusion.  The  Albatross  was  soon  tearing 
along  at  a  rapid  speed  away  from  the  coast  ;  but  the  Dolphin, 
having  less  wind  in  shore,  found  it  impossible  to  escape.  It 
soon  became  evident  that  she  had  struck  her  flag. 

"  The  fool !  the  coward !"  muttered  Seymour  between  his 
teeth.  "  I  would  have  blown  her  up  before  I  would  have  sur 
rendered." 

One  of  the  cruisers  now  bore  down  towards  the  Albatross, 
while  the  other  took  possession  of  the  prize.  It  was  soon  evi 
dent,  however,  that  the  chase  would  be  of  no  avail  ;  and  the 
captain  fairly  danced  with  glee  when  he  saw  his  ship  gradually 
creeping  away  further  and  further  from  her  pursuer. 

"  Hey!  what's  that  ?"  he  cried,  as  he  heard  a  sudden  splash 
in  the  water  astern. 

"  It's  the  woman  that  was  brought  up  here  just  now,"  said 
the  man  at  the  wheel  ;  "  she  has  managed  to  loosen  her  hands, 
and  has  jumped  overboard." 

It  was  true.  In  the  excitement  of  the  chase  no  one  had  per 
ceived  her,  and  the  poor  creature  had  freed  her  limbs  and 

6 


122 

leaped  overboard — either  to  seek  an  ocean  grave,  or  else  in 
the  hope  that  she  could  gain  the  ship  on  board  of  which  she 
knew  her  children  to  be. 

The  latter  appeared  to  be  the  case,  for  she  struck  out  boldly 
in  the  direction  of  the  approaching  cruiser. 

"  D n  I"  muttered  Seymour,  "  that  girl  would  have 

fetched  me  a  thousand  dollars.  Lower  away  the  boats,"  he 
shouted  ;  "  we'll  have  her  yet.  By  G — d,  she  swims  like  a 
fish.  No,  no;  keep  all  fast — I  forgot;  we  can't  afford  to  lose 

time,  with  that  d d  cruiser  at  our  heels."  And  the  woman 

was  left  to  her  fate. 

It  soon  became  evident,  however,  that  she  would  be  enabled 
to  keep  afloat  until  the  man  of-war  reached  her,  and  she  was 
watched  with  much  anxiety  from  the  ship.  The  water  was 
smooth,  and  she  could  be  seen  from  a  great  distance. 

"  She's  gone,  I  believe,"  said  Seymour,  watching  the  black 
spot  on  the  water  with  his  glass.  ""No — there — she's  up 
again.  I  wonder  if  the  man-of-war  will  'round  to'  to  pick  her 
up.  If  she  stops  to  do  that  we're  safe.  No,  by  heaven  I  she 
shows  no  sign  of  seeing  her.  Ah  !  yes,  she  does.  There  go 
the  studding  sails — alow  and  aloft !  Up  goes  her  fore  course !" 

She  sweeps  round  gracefully  to  the  wind.  Men  are  seen  in 
the  larboard  chains  with  ropes,  which  they  heave  to  the  poor 
drowning  wretch  as  the  ship  "sags"  down  upon  her.  She 
seizes  a  rope — is  hauled  alongside — half  a  dozen  stout  arms 
are  extended,  and  the  Yimga  Jagos  woman  is  safe  on  board 
the  man-of-war. 

But  will  she  be  restored  to  her  children?  The  vessel  they 
are  on  board  of  is  a  prize  to  her  preservers.  We  shall  see. 

"  Well,  she's  safe,  and  I  don't  know  that  I'm  sorry  for  it," 
said  Seymour.  "  I've  lost  her,  but  she  has  served  us,  too,  with 
her  tantrums — she's  enabled  us  to  get  far  ahead  of  the  cruiser. 
Aye,  fill  away,  my  hearties  1  brail  up  the  skysail !  shiver  the 
main  and  mizzen — brace  round  the  fore  yard — right  your  helm 
and  away.  What — you're  going  to  try  it  again,  are  you? 
Ha!  ha!  ha!  A  snail  might  as  well  try  to  catch  a  hare. 
No,  you've  thought  better  of  it,  and  are  hauling  your  wind. 
Well  best  be  satisfied — you've  got  one  prize,  at  all  events. 
Junot's  a  d d  poltroon,  and  he  merits  his  fate." 

Thus  speaking,  Seymour  turned  away  his  head,  for  it  was 
clear  that  the  cruiser  had  given  up  the  chase,  and  directed  his 
attention  to  his  own  vessel,  resolving  to  keep  her  on  her  pre 
sent  course,  to  make  assurance  doubly  sure,  till  nightfall.  He 


123 

saw  no  more  of  the  cruiser,  and  the  next  morning  he  shaped 
his  course  to  Aracati,  on  the  coast  of  Brazil,  whither  he  was 
bound;  the  destination  of  the  unlucky  Dolphin  having  been 
to  Trinidad  de  Cuba. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

The  departure  of  the  young  midshipman  on  his  first  voyage  to  sea — The 
peculiarities  of  Mr.  Mordant's  views  regarding  slave  dealing  on  the 
coast  of  Africa. 

IN  a  small  but  neatly  furnished  parlor,  in  a  cottage,  situated 
on  the  confines  of  Jersey  City,  of  very  moderate  pretensions, 
although  the  tastefully  trimmed  garden,  and  the  arrangement 
of  ever  thing  connected  with  the  household,  exterior  and  inte 
rior,  marks  it  to  be  the  abode  of  a  person  whose  means  are  at 
least  sufficient  to  maintain  an  appearance  of  respectability,  and 
even  to  make  some  faint  efforts  towards  elegance  and  luxury, 
are  seated  a  lady — a  little  past  the  middle  age — and  a  youth 
of  some  fifteen  or  sixteen  years.  The  countenance  of  the  lady 
is  care-worn  and  her  features  wear  an  expression  of  melancholy 
and  of  suffering  ;  but,  evidently  suffering  of  the  mind  rather 
than  of  the  body  ;  for  she  betrays  no  symptoms  of  ill-health, 
save  the  langour  which  the  fretting  of  a  "  mind  diseased"  has 
imparted  to  her  frame. 

The  youth  is  attired  in  the  uniform  of  a  midshipman  of  the 
United  States  navy — and  notwithstanding  the  regret  at  the 
idea  of  parting  from  his  home,  which  all  his  bright  hopes  and 
anticipations  cannot  entirely  banish,  he  evidently  looks  with 
pride  upon  his  gay  attire,  and  feels  within  his  heart  the  buoy 
ancy  of  spirit  which  all  boys  feel  when  first  about  to  go  forth 
into  the  world  and  fight  the  battle  of  life.  A  twinge  of  con 
science  may  now  and  then  arise  and  remind  him  that  he  is 
wrong  in  feeling  thus  elated,  when  she  who  watched  over  his 
infancy  and  childhood  is  so  sorrowful  at  the  thoughts  of  the 
parting  that  is  about  to  take  place  ;  but  the  remonstrance  of 
the  monitor,  conscience,  is  forgotten  as  soon  as  listened  to,  and 
bright  visions  of  the  future  banish  all  regretful  reflections  as 
soon  as  formed;  all  is  couleur  derose  to  the  boy's  mental  vision, 
and  unheard  of  fame  and  glory,  he  fancies,  await  him  in  the 
gallant  profession  into  which  he  is  about  to  enter. 


124 

The  lady  and  the  youth  are  Mrs.  Miller  and  her  son  Thomas 
— the  latter  of  whom  the  reader  will  recollect  we  have  hereto 
fore  alluded  to,  as  studying  for  the  naval  profession. 

"  Are  all  my  traps  packed,  mother  ?"  asks  the  lad.  "Brid 
get  must  have  everything  ready  to-night ;  because  you  know  I 
leave  for  Norfolk  the  first  thing  in  the  morning,  and  to-night  I 
must  go  over  to  New  York  and  see  Uncle  Mordant." 

"  Everything  is  ready,  my  dear,"  replies  the  widow.  "  I 
have  packed  everything  with  my  own  hands.  Your  uncle  has 
been  very  kind,  and  has  provided  you  with  a  complete  outfit, 
and  I  have  added  everything  I  can  think  of  that  can  possibly 
tend  to  your  comfort.  I  have  arranged  your  clothing  pro 
perly,  and  locked  up  your  trunks,  and  here  (handing  the  youth 
a  bunch  of  keys),  here  are  the  keys.  Take  care  of  them, 
Tom  ;  and  now,  my  boy,  there  is  one  thing  I  have  kept  out. 
It  is  the  last  thing  your  mother  presents  you  with — I  give  you 
this  pocket  Bible,  Tom,  and  beg  you  will  read  it  whenever  you 
have  an  opportunity.  I  do  not  say  every  day,  my  boy.  I 
know  were  you  to  promise  me  that,  now,  in  good  faith,  the  pro 
mise  would  be  broken — perhaps  often  necessarily  broken — and 
I  do  not  wish  to  bind  you  to  promises  that  are  difficult  to  keep  ; 
but  read  it  now  and  then,  as  often  as  you  can,  and  when  you 
read  it  think  of  her  who  gave  it  you,  and  who  would  wish  you 
to  consider  it  as  her  parting  and  most  precious  gift.  Open  the 
title  page,  my  dear,  I  have  written  a  verse  there — four  simple 
lines  only — but  I  trust  when  your  eye  lights  upon  them,  how 
ever  far  away  you  may  be,  you  will  think  of  the  writer — for, 
Tom,  I  much  fear  you  are  my  only  earthly  solace  now,"  (and  a 
tear  bedewed  the  widow's  eye,  and  she  sighed  deeply,  as  her 
thoughts  reverted  to  the  memory  of  her  lost  daughter.) 

The  boy  opened  the  book,  and  glanced  over  the  following 
lines  : — 

"  Remember  her  who  gave  you  this, 

When  other  days  shall  come  ; 
When  she  who  had  your  earliest  kiss 
Sleeps  in  her  narrow  tomb." 

"  I  will,  dear  mother,  I  will,"  said  the  boy,  and  springing 
from  his  seat,  he  threw  his  arm  around  his  mother's  neck, 
and  kissed  her  cheek.  The  embrace  was  returned,  and 
the  youth  resumed  : 

"  But,  mother,  I  hope  it  will  be  a  long,  long  time  before  the 
event  mentioned  in  the  last  line  comes  to  pass.  You  are  not  an 


125 

old  woman,  mother,  and  I  hope  to  be  a  captain,  and  have  a 
ship  of  my  own  to  command  before  you  die  ;  and  then,  mother, 
we  do  not  know  that  poor  Jane  is  dead.  She  may  return,  and 
yon  will  be  happy  again." 

"  Ah,  no,  Tom,  I  fear  she  will  never  return.  Even  if  she 
lives,  perhaps,  it  were  better  she  did  not — and  yet— what  am 
I  saying  ?  Better  she  did  not  !  no,  no,  poor  child — were  she 
steeped  in  shame — if  all  the  world  should  forsake  her,  she 
should  find  a  mother's  home  to  shelter  her — a  mother's  heart 
to  receive  her  ;  yes,  and  without  a  word  of  reproach." 

The  widow  wiped  away  the  tears  which  had  gushed  to  her 
eyes,  and  after  a  few  moments'  silence,  during  which  she  endea 
vored  to  compose  her  agitated  feelings,  she  said,  addressing  her 
son  : 

"  Tom,  you  had  better  go  over  to  New  York  as  soon  as  pos 
sible,  dear,  because  I  should  like  you  to  be  home  early.  Your 
last  evening  at  home,  for  a  long  time  at  any  rate,  must  be  spent 
with  your  mother,  my  boy." 

"  It's  now  half-past  three,"  said  the  boy,  loolyng  at  his  new 
gold  watch,  a  present  from  his  uncle.  "  Uncle  Mordant  goes 
home  from  the  city  at  four.  So  I  shall  just  be  in  time  to  meet 
him  at Place.  I  shall  be  back  by  eight  o'clock,  mother." 

"  Do,  my  boy  ;  don't  be  later,"  replied  the  widow,  and  the 
lad  slipped  on  his  overcoat,  placed  his  cap  on  his  head,  and 
started  off  in  the  direction  of  the  Jersey  City  ferry,  and  .Mrs. 
Miller,  in  order  to  occupy  her  mind  till  his  return,  set  to  work 
thinking  whether  there  was  anything  in  her  power  to  provide, 
that  she  had  not  already  provided,  which  would  add  to  her 
son's  comfort  or  pleasure  during  his  voyage. 

In  the  course  of  an  hour,  Thomas  Miller  had  reached  his 
uncle's  mansion  ;  the  merchant  had  not  returned  from  the  city, 
but  he  was  expected  every  moment,  and  the  youth  was  asked 
into  the  parlor  where  his  aunt  Mordant  and  his  cousins  were 
seated.  Tom  was  a  fine  handsome  lad,  and  was  rather  a 
favorite  with  his  cousins  ;  he  had  always  been  so,  although 
they  disliked  his  sister.  The  reason,  however,  was  evident 
Jane  was  a  much  finer-looking  and  handsomer  girl  than  either 
Mary  or  Sarah  Mordant,  and  the  very  cause  which  led  the 
young  ladies  to  envy  and  dislike  her,  led  them  to  admire  the 
youth.  He  was  some  years  younger  than  they  were,  ami  he 
had  always  been  fondled  and  petted  by  them.  He  was  compli 
mented  upon  his  appearance  in  his  uniform,  and  each  of  the 
young  ladies,  and  their  mother  likewise,  presented  him  with  a 


126 

valuable  gift  by  way  of  a  souvenir.  Before  lie  had  been  seated 
many  minutes,  Mr.  Mordant  arrived  home  and  cordially  wel 
comed  his  nephew,  whom,  as  we  have  said,  he  had  fitted 
out  at  his  own  expense,  perhaps,  as  a  set-off  against  his 
short-comings,  as  regarded  the  other  members  of  the  Miller 
family.  Who  shall  say  ?  At  all  events,  the  merchant  shook 
the  boy  heartily  by  the  hand,  and  said  : 

"  Why,  I  declare,  Tom  !  you  look  quite  bravely  in  your  uni 
form.  I  hope  I  shall  live  to  see  you  a  commodore,  boy.  Pity 
now,  there  isn't  some  trouble  with  Uncle  Sam,  somewhere  or 
other,  so  that  you  might  have  an  opportunity  to  distinguish 
yourself — isn't  it  ?  However,  you'll  get  on  well  enough,  I 

warrant,  I  know  Captain  P ,  of  the  U.  S.  ship  G =, 

intimately  and  I  have  written  to  him  concerning  you.  You 
will  have  a  good  berth  on  board,  my  boy,  I  have  no  doubt, 
and  I  hope  you  will  succeed  in  your  profession,  and  become 
not  only  a  comfort  to  your  mother,  but  an  honor  to  the 
family  ;  come,  Mary,  my  love,"  turning  to  his  daughter,  "  is 
dinner  ready  f  you'll  dine  with  us  to-day,  Tom  ?"  he  added, 
again  addressing  the  lad. 

"  I  should  like  to  get  home  again  as  soon  as  possible,"  replied 
Tom,  "  my  mother  expressly  desires  me  to  spend  my  last  even 
ing  ashore,  with  her." 

"  And  so .  you  shall — so  you  shall — you  shall  go  home  as 
soon  as  dinner  is  over  ;  come,  offer  your  arm  to  your  cousin 
Mary,"  and  the  merchant  and  his  wife  led  the  way  into  the 
dining-room. 

''Fill  your  glass,  Tom — which  will  you  have,  Sherry  or 
Madeira  ?"  said  Mr.  Mordant,  pushing  the  decanters  towards 
his  nephew  :  "  I  wish  you  happiness,  health,  and  success,"  and 
he  emptied  his  own  glass,  adding — "  and  now,  my  boy,  you  can 
drink  the  toast  to  yourself." 

"  By-the-by,  Uncle,"  said  Tom,  "  your  letter  did  not  mention 
the  destination  of  the  sloop-of-war.  If  you  know  yourself,  I 
should  like  to  know  whither  I  am  bound." 

"  To  Pernambuco,  I  believe,  Tom  ;  and  if  I  recollect  aright, 

the  G will  relieve  some  vessel  now  on  that  station,  and 

will  then  wait  for  orders  Irom  the  commodore  on  the  station." 

"  I  did  make  some  inquiries,''  replied  the  lad,  "  but  no  one 
seemed  to  know  anything  about  it  ;  still  I  saw  a  paragraph  in 
the  paper  saying  that  a  U.  S.  ship  was  going  to  be  despatched 
to  the  coast  of  Africa — I  suppose  to  look  after  the  slave  trade. 
Now,  you  were  saying  that  it  was  a  pity  there  was  no  chance 


THE    CABIN    BOY'S    STORY.  127 

of  a  dust  with  anybody  just  now.  It  strikes  me  that  the 
coast  offers  the  best  chance.  Suppose  by  good  luck  I  should 
go  there,  and  we  should  capture  some  slave  ships  ;  you  know 
that  would  be  something  in  the  way  of  practice  ;  at  all  events, 
there  seems  nothing  else  likely  to  turn  up  in  the  way  of  fight 
ing  just  now  ;  unless,  indeed,  we  were  to  get  into  a  row  with 
Spain  about  the  Island  of  Cuba." 

"  You  may,  perhaps,  be  ordered  to  the  coast  of  Africa,  Tom; 
but  I  think  not;  and,  for  my  part,  if  I  were  you,  I  would  care 
little  about  going  there  ;  though,  of  course,  you  must  go,  if 
you  are  ordered.  It  always  seems  to  me  poor,  pitiful  work, 
that  hunting  after  slavers — a  sort  of  spy  system,  beneath  the 
dignity  of  the  national  service." 

"  But  you  surely  don't  approve  of  the  slave  trade,  sir?"  con 
tinued  the  lad;  "  I  always  believed  you  to  be  an  abolitionist." 

"  And  so  I  am,  Tom;  but  I  think  this  hunting  up  the  slave 
ships  on  the  coast  of  Africa  is  fraught  with  misery  and  death 
to  the  negroes.  While  a  market  can  be  found  for  the  sale  of 
negroes,  and  while  the  sale  continues  as  profitable  as  it  is  now, 
there  will  be  found  persons  bold  enough  to  venture  into  the 
trade.  If  the  trade  were  legal,  as  it  once  was,  and  could  be 
carried  on  openly,  more  care  would  be  taken  of  the  slaves  im 
ported  from  Africa,  and  more  roomy  vessels  provided  for  them, 
ten  times  over,  than  are  now  provided  for  emigrants  who  cross 
the  Atlantic  from  Europe.  As  it  is,  they  are  crowded  into 
small,  fleet  vessels,  cramped  for  room  and  for  air,  and  they  die 
off  in  great  numbers.  The  government  of  England,  and  that 
of  America,  too,  are  answerable  for  this  evil  ;  for  whereas,  ne 
groes  would  fall  in  value,  were  the  trade  open  and  any  quantity 
easily  imported,  now  the  individual  price  of  the  surviving  ne 
groes  is  enhanced  in  the  market,  according  to  the  mortality 
that  has  prevailed  amongst  them,  during  their  passage  across 
the  ocean.  The  dealers  still  make  money,  while  the  govern 
ment  compels  them  to  make  it  at  the  expense  of  the  blood  of 
the  negroes." 

Mr.  Mordant  had  got  quite  excited  while  speaking,  and  Tom 
smilingly  remarked — 

"  Why,  sir,  if  they  were  to  hear  you  speak  thus  in  an  aboli 
tionist  meeting,  they  would  think  you  had  changed  your  senti 
ments  and  .gone  bodily  over  to  the  other  side." 

"  I  do  get  a  little  excited  when  I  think  of  the  miseries  the 
poor  negroes  suffer,  through  the  ill-advised  endeavors  to  curb 
the  traffic  in  slaves;  still,  I  am  an  abolitionist  for  all  that — 


128  THE    CABIN    BOY'S    STORY. 

only,  I  would  leave  the  evil  of  slavery  to  work  its  own  reforma 
tion." 

"  By  rendering  it  easy  for  any  number  to  be  imported  and 
sold  without  restraint  or  difficulty,"  said  Tom,  laughing. 

"It  is  a  matter  that  you  do  not  understand,  and  which  I 
cannot  properly  explain,"  said  Mr.  Mordant,  testily,  and  Tom, 
fearing  to  offend  his  uncle,  changed  the  subject  of  conversation. 

Dinner  over,  Tom  prepared  to  go  home.  He  bade  farewell 
to  his  aunt  and  cousins,  shook  his  uncle's  hand,  and  received 
from  him  a  goodly  roll  of  bank  notes,  as  a  parting  present,  and 
hastened  to  return  to  his  mother's  cottage  in  Jersey  City. 

The  evening  was  spent  by  the  mother  and  son  together  in 
earnest  conversation,  and  it  was  far  into  the  night  when  they 
retired.  In  the  morning,  at  an  early  hour,  Tom  arose  ;  the 
widow  was  already  up — -for  she  had  not  undressed  herself,  but 
had  lain  down  on  the  couch  in  her  bed-room.  Soon  the  car 
riage  was  at  the  door,  and  the  luggage  placed  within  it — there 
were  more  kisses,  reiterated  promises — still  more  last  words — • 
the  driver  smacked  his  whip — the  carriage  rolled  rapidly  away 
towards  the  railroad  station — and  the  widow  Miller,  still  gaz 
ing  upon  the  departing  vehicle,  was  left  alone.  A  sharp  pang 
shot  through  her  heart;  she  felt  she  was  now  indeed  solitary, 
in  one  sense,  childless  ;  for  one  child  had  gone  she  knew  not 
whither — she  feared  down  into  the  grave — while  the  other 
would  be  separated  from  her,  perhaps  for  years. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

Frank  Martin's  dangerous  escape  from  the  slaver — His  rescue  from  the 

wreck    by  the  G ,  frigate —  Miss    Herbert  is  introduced  to  the 

reader. 

"  O'er  the  glad  waters  of  the  dark  blue  sea, 
Our  thoughts  as  boundless,  and  our  souls  as  free." 

MERRILY  onward,  with  a  top-gallant  breeze  bearing  her  rapidly 
over  the  yielding  waters,  and  a  sky  above  clear  and  serene  as 
that  which  canopies  the  soil  of  Italy,  sped  the  Albatross,  on  her 
way  towards  her  destined  port  in  the  Brazils.  Merrily  onward, 
to  outward  seeming — the  gallant  bark,  a  thing  of  light,  almost 
of  life.  Cheerily  across  the  billowy  ocean,  borne  by  the  breeze, 


129 

is  heard — long  after  the  sun  has  sunk  beneath  the  western  hori 
zon — the  song  of  the  mariners,  as  they  sit  on  the  forecastle, 
mingling  their  rough  voices  in  a  rude,  but — heard  under  these 
circumstances — a  not  unmusical  sea  ditty;  the  dulcet  tones  of 
the  violin  and  the  flute,  not  touched  by  the  hands  of  artists, 
nor  giving  forth  melody  such  as  would  please  the  ears  of  musi 
cal  connoisseurs — add  depth  and  richness  to  the  vocal  strains  ; 
for  the  rippling  waters,  parted  by  the  swift  keel  of  the  vessel, 
unite  in  the  chorus,  and  the  dying  cadence  melts  slowly,  faintly 
away  in  the  gentle  breeze.  Merrily  onward,  to  outward  seem 
ing,  for  a  successful  voyage  has  been  all  but  accomplished,  the 
dangers  that  threaten  all  illegal  pursuits  are  passed,  and  a  rich 
harvest  in  silver  and  gold — the  price  of  human  flesh  and  blood 
awaits  the  adventurers — merrily  on,  to  outward  seeming  !  but 
what  a  world  of  woe,  of  anguish  unutterable,  is  hidden  in  the 
dark  hold  of  that  gallant  bark. 

Rude  and  savage — perhaps  are  the  natures  of  its  dusky 
occupants — stolid  and  sullen  their  tempers — uncultivated  and 
ignorant — inferior  to  the  rest  of  the  human  race,  perchance,  are 
the  minds  of  the  poor  wretches  who  are  imprisoned  there  ;  pen 
ned  up  like  cattle  in  the  market  place,  but  denied  the  free 
current  of  air,  that  the  beasts  of  the  field  are  permitted  to 
breathe,  even  there  ;  their  numbers  at  first  rapidly,  then  more 
slowly  thinned  by  deaths,  the  dead  bodies  lying  for  hours  tossed 
to  and  fro  amongst  the  living  by  the  heaving  of  the  vessel,  as 
she  dances,  seemingly  so  lightly  and  buoyantly  over  the  billows, 
and  dragged  up  and  consigned  to  the  deep,  each  morning  like 
so  much  carrion,  without  a  prayer  being  read  over  them — with 
out  a  thought  of  compassion  for  their  fate — nay,  amidst  the 
coarse,  lewd  jokes  of  the  crew.  Rude,  ignorant,  savage,  we 
repeat  they  may  be — they  are  ;  but  the  vilest  animal  that 
breathes,  has  its  likes  and  attachments — to  its  young,  to  its 
kind — to  its  native  soil — to  all  amongst  which  it  has  «been 
accustomed  to  live  ;  and  have  these  poor  untutored  negroes  no 
regrets  !  are  they,  ignorant  and  savage  as  they  are,  yet  still 
endowed  with  reason  and  with  human  feelings,  of  less  account 
in  the  eyes  of  their  fellow  men  than  the  dumb  beast  of  the  field 
or  forest !  So  indeed  would  it  seem  ;  but  a  wail  of  human  woe 
bursts  forth  continuously  from  amongst  that  wretched  herd,  and 
though  it  fails  to  touch  the  hearts  of  the  monsters  in  human  form, 
who  hold  them  in  chains  and  are  about  to  barter  them  for  gold 
— it  finds  elsewhere  a  hearing,  and  will  be  responded  to  in  curses 
upon  the  heads  of  the  ravishers  and  despoilers  ;  perhaps  not 

6* 


130 

yet — they  may  triumph  in  their  wickedness  and  cruelty  for  a 
time,  but  though  it  may  be  slow  in  coming,  the  hour  of  retribu 
tion  will  arrive — and  that  most  surely.  Never  yet,  but  in  some 
way  or  other  the  wrongs  of  the  oppressed  have  been  visited  with 
double  severity  upon  the  oppressors.  * 

In  the  course  of  a  few  weeks  the  Albatross  with  its  living 
freight  arrived  safely  in  the  harbor  of  Aracati,  and  the  negroes 
were  quickly  conveyed  up  the  Sagaldo  river  and  disposed  of  to 
slave  merchants  who  subsequently  took  them  to  Bahia,  Per- 
nambuco,  Maranham,  and  other  large  Brazilian  cities,  and  easily 
and  rapidly  again  sold  them  at  a  large  profit.  Captain  Sey 
mour  was  well  pleased  as  he  surveyed  the  heaps  of  gold  that 
his  adventure  had  brought,  as  it  lay  piled  upon  the  cabin  table. 
The  crew  were  called  down  one  by  one,  and  their  wages  paid 
and  a  douceur  of  two  hundred  dollars  presented  to  each  in  addi 
tion,  and  each  was  asked  if  he  would  ship  for  another  voyage — 
after  having  been  allowed  a  reasonable  time  on  shore  to  spend 
his  ill-gotten  wages,  and  to  revel  in  the  drunkenness  and  debauch 
eries  peculiar  to  seamen  on  the  termination  of  a  voyage.  All 
agreed,  for  they  were  pleased  with  the  result  of  the  voyage — and 
satisfied  with  the  treatment  they  had  met  with  from  the  cap 
tain. 

"  Now,  Mr.  Tolcroft,  call  the  boy  Frank  down,"  said  the 
captain  to  the  chief  mate. 

Frank  Martin  made  his  appearance  in  the  cabin. 

"  Well,  Frank,"  said  Captain  Seymour,  "  considering  all 
things,  my  boy,  we  have  had  a  very  prosperous  voyage,  and  I 
am  well  satisfied.  Your  articles  of  indenture,  I  find,  guarantee 
you  six  dollars  a  month,  besides  providing  for  your  board  and 
clothing.  Here  is  the  amount  due  you,  and  I  have  added 
twenty-five  dollars,  as  a  present,  out  of  my  own  pocket.  I  am 
well  satisfied  with  your  conduct.  You  will  make  a  good  sea 
man  <by-and-bye  ;  and  I  shall  interest  myself  with  Mr.  Mordant 
to  further  your  advancement." 

Frank  thanked  the  captain,  and  counted  his  money. 

"I  suppose,"  continued  Captain  Seymour,  you  would  like  a 
run  on  shore  with  the  rest  for  a  day  or  two.  This  is  Wednes 
day  ;  Mr.  Tolcroft  tells  me  that  everything  is  in  order  on  board. 
We  shall  sail  on  Saturday  for  Pernambuco.  To-morrow  and 
Friday  you  can  have  to  yourself." 

"  If  you  please,  sir,"  said  the  lad,  "  I  should  like  to  leave 
the  Albatross,  and  go  on  board  some  other  of  Mr.  Mordant's 
vessels  to  serve  out  the  remainder  of  my  time." 


131 

"  Why— what's  the  matter,  boy  ?  What  fault  do  you  find 
with  the  Albatross  or  her  Captain  ? "  asked  Seymour. 

"  I  have  no  fault  to  find  with  either,  sir,"  responded  Frank. 

"  Why,  then,  do  you  wish  to  leave  ?  " 

"  When  I  joined  the  Albatross,  I  had  no  idea  of  the  trade  in 
which  she  was  engaged,"  said  the  boy,  rather  hesitatingly. 

"  Oh  !  so  you  are  troubled  with  scruples  of  conscience,  are 
you?"  replied  the  captain,  smiling  ironically.  "Well,  let  me 
think  what's  best  to  be  done  under  these  circumstances.  Mr. 
Tolcroft,"  addressing  the  mate,  "  I  promised  this  youth  a  couple 
of  days'  liberty  on  shore  ;  but,  since  his  conscience  is  so  easily 
touched,  he  will  undoubtedly  be  desirous  of  avoiding  the  scenes 
of  license  and  debauchery  he  will  witness  if  he  runs  loose 
amongst  his  shipmates — so  see  that  he  does  not  quit  the  vessel 
on  any  pretext.  And  yon  may  as  well  give  me  back  the 
money  I  have  paid  you,  my  lad.  Since  you  have  no  occasion 
to  spend  it,  it  will  be  safer  in  my  trust." 

"  Please,  sir,  I  think  I  have  earned  my  wages,  at  least," 
diffidently  replied  .the  lad  ;  but  his  further  speech  was  inter 
rupted  by  the  captain  who  said,  sharply — 

"  Place  the  money  back  again  on  the  table,  sir  ;  and,  since 
you  are  so  exceedingly  conscientious,  go  on  deck  to  your  duty, 
and  see  that  you  attend  to  it  strictly.  It's  really  a  pleasure  to 
have  so  scrupulous  a.  youth  on  board  the  Albatross  to  remind 
her  captain  of  his  duties.  Mr.  Tolcroft,"  he  added,  "  see  that 
this  young  man's  clothing  is  brought  aft  immediately,  and 
placed  in  the  cabin  ;  and  take  care  that  on  no  account  he  quit 
the  vessel.  You  can  go  on  deck,  sir,"  addressing  the  boy  ;  and 
Frank  Martin,  rather  crestfallen,  ascended  the  companion 
ladder. 

"  That  boy  must  be  looked  after,"  said  the  captain  to  the 
mate,  when  the  lad  had  retired.  "  He'll  make  a  good  seaman 
by-and-bye — but  I  thought  at  the  time  it  was  a  foolish  whim 
on  the  part  of  Mr.  Mordant  to  put  him  on  board  the  Albatross, 
Indeed,  had  I  not  felt  satisfied  that  he  knew  more  than  it  ap 
pears  he  did  know,  I  would  not  have  taken  him  on  board  at  all. 
Once  here,  however,  here  he  must  remain." 

"  I'll  keep  a  sharp  eye  on  the  youngster,"  said  the  mate. 

"Do  so,"  replied  the  captain  ;  "but  don't  be  harsh  with 
him.  Probably  by  good  treatment  we  may  bring  him  round. 
Harsh  measures  will  only  strengthen  him  in  his  foolish  notions." 

"  I've  known  many  such  a  lad,  as  had  them  'ere  scruples  of 
conscience,  as  you  call  'em,  to  tumble  overboard  accidentally  on 


132  THE  CABIN  BOY'S  STORY. 

a  dark  night,"  said  the  mate,  leering  horribly,  and  giving  vent 
to  his  accustomed  chuckle,  when  he  thought  he  had  said  a  good 
thing  ! 

The  captain  did  not  reply  ;  and  the  conversation  turned 
upon  matters  connected  with  the  ship. 

Frank  had  determined,  if  his  remonstrance  with  the  captain 
failed,  to  quit  the  ship  at  all  hazards,  but  in  his  eagerness  he 
had  overshot  his  mark,  and  he  now  found  himself  in  an  awk 
ward  predicament — for,  even  if  he  managed  to  effect  his  escape, 
what  was  he  to  do  without  clothing  or  money  ?  In  one  regard, 
however,  his  plan  was  facilitated,  for  neither  the  captain  or 
mate  thought  he  would  venture  to  make  the  attempt  in  his 
present  position — and  thus  casting  himself  on  shore  in  the  con 
dition  of  a  ship-wrecked  seaman — and  therefore,  though  he 
was  not  allowed  to  leave  the  vessel,  no  very  strict  watch  was 
kept  over  him  during  the  day,  though  one  or  other  of  the 
mates  kept  watch  on  deck  at  night. 

Frank  saw  that  his  chances  were  desperate — still  he  resolved 
to  make  the  attempt.  On  the  Thursday  not  a  chance  occurred, 
but  on  the  Friday  he  was  sent  over  the  side  to  paint  the  white 
streak  on  the  water  line.  The  town  of  Aracati  consists  but  of 
a  few  hundred  houses  on  the  north  side  of  a  small  bay  ;  and 
the  other  shores  are  covered  with  wood  and  thicket  to  the 
margin  of  the  beach.  The  vessel  lay  at  anchor  not  more  than 
a  quarter  of  a  mile  distant  from  the  wooded  shores,  and  about 
a  mile  from  the  town,  with  her  stern  towards  it.  The  captain 
was  sitting  on  a  hen  coop  beneath  the  awning  on  the  quarter 
deck,  on  the  larboard  side,  busily  occupied  in  reading.  All 
the  crew  but  the  cook,  and  two  of  the  mates,  were  ashore  ;  and 
the  two  latter  were  stretched  at  full  length  in  the  hammock 
nettings,  on  the  same  side  the  deck  as  the  captain,  and  lazily 
smoking  their  cigars.  Consequently,  Frank  could  slip  into  the 
water  from  the  starboard  bow  unperceived,  and  as  he  hoped 
reach  the  shore  by  swimming,  and  penetrate  into  the  woods 
before  his  flight  was  discovered.  He  made  an  excuse  to  come 
on  deck,  to  reconnoitre  and  see  that  all  was  right  ;  and  find 
ing  the  captain  and  officers  still  in  the  same  position,  and  the 
cook  busily  employed  in  the  galley,  he  again  descended  to  the 
plank,  and  gently  let  himself  off  into  the  water.  He  was  mi- 
perceived,  and  had  swam  perhaps  one  hundred  yards  before  it 
was  known  that  he  had  left  the  vessel's  side  ;  but  unfortunately 
at  this  moment  the  cook  came  to  the  side  of  the  ship  to  draw 
a  bucket  of  water  for  some  culinary  purpose.  He  missed  the 


THE  CABIN  BOY'S  STORY.  133 

lad  from  the  plank,  and  casting  his  eyes  toward  the  shore,  saw 
him  at  a  distance  boldly  striking  out  for  the  shore.  He  im 
mediately  gave  the  alarm,  and  the  captain  and  mates  were  on 
their  feet  in  an  instant.  • 

"  Curse  the  fellow,"  said  the  captain,  stamping  his  foot  with 
vexation.  "  But  he's  not  far  off,  I'll  spoil  his  sport  yet. 
Hand  me  a  musket,  Mr.  Allan." 

The  second  mate  took  one  from  the  rack  round  the  main 
mast,  which  was  always  kept  full  of  muskets,  pikes,  and  cut 
lasses  when  the  vessel  was  in  port,  and  handed  it  to  the 
captain. 

"  Hilloa  there  !"  shouted  Captain  Seymour  to  the  boy, 
"  come  back  here,  you  scoundrel,  come  back,  or  I'll  fire  at  you." 

Whether  the  boy  heard  his  voice  or  not,  the  command 
was  unheeded  ;  he  still  swam  boldly,  manfully  on  towards  the 
shore. 

"Bang  !"  went  the  musket,  and  the  ball  whizzed  through 
the  air,  striking  the  water  some  distance  astern  of  the  swim 
mer,  whence  it  bounded  and  rebounded,  skipping  along  past 
his  ears.  ^ 

"  By I've  missed  him  this  time,''  said  the  captain, 

"  hand  me  another  musket,  Allan,  and  take  one  yourself  ;  and 
you,  too,  Tolcroft — I'll  show  the  young  scoundrel  the  penalty 
of  breaking  my  orders.  He'll  never  break  any  others." 

The  boy  had  heard  the  report  and  the  whiz  of  the  ball  as  it 
bounded  past  him,  and  sunk  at  last  some  yards  in  advance  ;  he 
had  momentarily  turned  his  head,  but  only  to  turn  it  back 
again  and  redouble  his  efforts  to  escape. 

"  Now,  Tolcroft  and  Allan,  take  good  aim  and  steady. 
Fire  !"  snouted  the  captain,  and  the  three  reports  were  simul 
taneously  heard.  Again  the  balls  whistled  through  the  air  ; 
but  Frank  had,  during  the  interval,  placed  several  yards  of 
greater  distance  between  himself  and  the  vessel,  and  the  balls 
touched  the  water  at  a  greater  distance  behind  him  than  the 
single  bullet  had  done  before — again  they  skipped  and  bounded 
over  the  surface,  straight  towards  him,  but  they  sank  ere  they 
reached  him. 

"  Confound  the  useless  things  !"  said  the  captain,  throwing 
his  musket  contemptuously  to  the  deck — "  lower  a  boat,"  he 
shouted,  "  by I'll  have  him  yet,  dead  or  alive." 

But  a  boat  was  not  so  easily  lowered;  the  pinnace  and  long 
boat  were  secured  amidships,  ready  for  the  ship's  sailing  on 
the  following  day — the  jolly-boat  was  on  shore  with  the  third 


134 

mate,  and  the  captain's  gig,  the  only  remaining  boat,  had  been 
hoisted  on  board  and  turned  keel  up,  for  the  purpose  of  being 
painted;  the  paint  was  not  yet  dry«  Frank  had  been  employed 
upon  it,  and  he  had  well  calculated  the  difficulty  there  would 
be  in  sending  a  boat  after  him. 

"  D — n  the  paint !"  shouted  the  captain,  in  reply  to  some 
remark  of  the  mate's  in  regard  to  it — "  overboard  with  the 
boat,  quick  !  we'll  be  able  to  catch  the  young  scamp  before  he 
reaches  the  shore  :"  and  the  boat  was  hoisted  over  the  side  as 
quickly  as  possible ;  the  captain  himself  assisting  at  the  tackles. 
Both  mates  and  the  captain  sprang  into  it,  and  seized  an  oar 
a-piece,  the  captain  using  his  whale-boat  fashion,  to  steer  as 
well  as  to  aid  in  propelling  the  boat. 

The  chase  was  an  exciting  one.  Frank  had  reached  within 
a  comparatively  short  distance  of  the  shore  during  the  time 
that  had  been  occupied  in  getting  the  gig  into  the  water  ;  but 
his  strength  was  beginning  to  fail  him — nevertheless  he 
strained  every  nerve — swiftly  the  boat  cleft  the  smooth  waters 
of  the  bay  in  pursuit,  and  earnestly  the  pursuers  bent  to  the 
oars,  for  there  was  excitement  in  the  chase;  but  their  efforts 
were  useless.  When  within  one  hundred  yards  or  less  of  the 
boy,  the  latter  touched  the  shore,  turned  round,  waved  his 
hand  as  if  in  exultation  or  derision,  and  disappeared  in  the 
woods. 

"  Pull  in,  pull  in — run  the  boat  right  upon  the  beach,"  cried 
the  captain.  "  We  may  catch  him  yet,"  and  in  a  few  minutes 
more  the  boat  was  on  the  shore,  and  the  captain  and  mates 
had  sprung  out  and  penetrated  into  the  woods  ;  but  the  boy 
was  lighter  and  more  active  than  they.  They  found  a  diffi 
culty  in  pushing  through  the  tangled  weeds  and  brushwood, 
and  soon  gave  up  the  search  as  useless,  arid  returned  to  the 
ship,  wearied  with  their  exertions. 

"  By  Heaven  !"  said  Seymour,  as  he  reached  the  vessel's 
deck,  "  the  boy  deserves  to  escape  for  his  courage  ;  but  his 
escape  may  be  an  awkward  matter.  I  should  have  liked  to 
have  caught  him." 

"  Or  to  have  shot  him,"  chuckled  Tolcroft. 

Frank  spent  the  night  in  the  woods,  sleeping  amongst  the 
branches  of  a  lofty  tree,  where  he  thought  he  would  be  secure 
from  the  attacks  of  wild  beasts  or  venomous  reptiles — nor  did 
he  venture  out  until  the  evening  of  the  following  day,  and  then, 
with  the  exception  of  one  or  two  Brazilian  coasters,  the  bay 
was  devoid  of  shipping.  The  Albatross  had  sailed  for  Pernam- 


135 

buco.  Footsore  and  half  famished,  he  reached  the  town,  and 
there  he  procured  some  simple  refreshment  and  the  rest  he  so 
much  needed  in  the  hut  of  a  negro,  to  whom  he  related  his  ad 
ventures,  as  well  as  he  could,  for  he  knew  but  a  few  words  of 
the  broken  patois  spoken  by  the  black.  However,  he  found  no 
difficulty  in  getting  a  berth  on  board  one  of  the  coasting  crafts 
in  the  harbor,  which  was  bound  to  Para — there  he  joined  an 
other  vessel,  and  worked  his  passage  to  Maranham,  and  thence 
he  procured  a  berth  on  regular  wages  to  New  Orleans. 

What  little  money  was  coming  to  him  on  his  arrival  at  the 
latter  port,  together  with  his  advance  money,  he  spent  in  such 
clothing  as  was  necessary,  and  shipped  on  board  a  cotton  ves 
sel  bound  to  Liverpopl. 
**#*  **** 

Just  at  sunrise  one  fine  morning,  about  three  weeks  after 
young  Martin  had  sailed  for  Liverpool,  the  captain  of  a  fine 
vessel,  the  appearance  of  which  would  have  told  at  once,  even 
to  the  least  practised  eye,  that  she  was  a  ship  of  war,  came  on 
deck,  and  addressing  the  officer  of  the  watch,  said  :  "  Mr. 
Ross,  let  the  watch  keep  a  sharp  look  out.  "We  ought  to  sight 
the  island  of  Barbadoes  before  '  seven  bells.' " 

"  Aye,  aye,  sir,"  responded  the  officer,  touching  the  peak  of 
his  cap  with  his  forefinger,  and  lowering  the  spy  glass  which 
for  some  time  he  had  kept  pointed  across  the  water  to  leeward. 
Having  replied  to  his  captain's  command,  and  given  the  ne 
cessary  instructions  to  the  men,  he  again  raised  the  glass  to  his 
eye  in  the  same  direction. 

"  Our  observations  indicate  that  we  are  to  leeward  of  the 
island,  Mr.  Ross,"  said  the  captain  to  the  young  lieutenant  ; 
"  I  don't  think  you'll  sight  the  land  in  that  direction." 

"It's  not  that  I'm  looking  for,  sir,"  replied  the  officer;  "but 
since  it  grew  daylight,  half  an  hour  ago,  I've  seen  a  black 
speck  thereaway  to  leeward,  which  I  can't  make  out  properly. 
I  first  caught  sight  of  it  as  I  was  sweeping  the  horison  with 
my  glass  at  daybreak.  I  thought  at  first  it  was  a  rock  ;  then 
that  it  was  a  float  of  sea-weed  ;  and  then  that  it  was  a  boat  ; 
but  really,  I  can  make  nothing  at  all  of  it." 

The  captain  took  the  glass  from  his  hands,  and  peered  long 
and  earnestly  through  it  himself. 

"  I  can't  make  it  out,"  he  said,  at  last.  "  As  you  say,  it 
does  look  like  a  boat  sometimes,  and  yet,  at  other  times,  it 
looks  like  a  mass  of  sea-weed.  If  I  thought  it  was  really  a 
boat  I  would  bear  down  to  it  ;  but  we  have  to  beat  to  wind- 


136  THE    CABIN    BOY'S    STORY. 

ward  to  weather  the  island,  and  we  should  lose  so  much 
ground.  Here,  Mr.  Miller,"  he  exclaimed,  turning  to  the  mid 
shipman  of  the  watch,  who  was  standing  on  the  lee  side  of  the 
deck,  "  your  eyes  are  younger  than  mine  or  Mr.  Ross's  either  ; 
take  you  the  glass  and  see  what  you  can  make  of  that  object." 

The  youth  touched  his  cap,  advanced,  and  took  the  glass 
from  the  captain.  He  peered  through  it  for  some  minutes,  and 
then  said:  "  It  does  not  look  like  a  boat,  sir,  unless  it  is  bot 
tom  up;  but  I  think  I  can  see  some  figures  moving  upon  it. 
It  looks  to  me  as  if  they  were  waving  something  or  other  for  a 
signal  of  distress;  but  the  object  is  so  distant  and  so  small 
that  I  cannot  properly  make  it  out." 

"  On  deck,  there!"  shouted  an  old  quarter-master,  who,  some 
time  before  the  captain  had  come  on  deck,  had  been  sent  aloft 
by  the  lieutenant  with  a  spy  glass,  to  see  if  he  could  make  any 
thing  out  of  the  dark  object. 

"  Hallo*  !  what  is  it?"  answered  the  officer. 

"  That  dark  object  is  a  boat  capsized,  and  two  figures  are 
clinging  to  it,  sir,"  replied  the  seaman.  "  I  could  not  make  it 
out  at  first,  but  the  sun  is  shining  right  upon  it  now.  They 
are  waving  something  to  attract  our  attention." 

"  We'll  run  down  toward  the  object,  Mr.  Ross,"  said  the 
captain,  "  until  we  are  near  enough  to  lower  a  boat,  and  then 
'  heave  to  ;' "  and  the  officer  immediately  gave  the  necessary 
directions  to  trim  the  yards  and  alter  the  vessel's  course. 

As  the  ship  drew  nearer,  it  became  quite  evident  that  it  was 
indeed  a  boat,  floating  keel  upwards — the  keel  barely  out  of 
the  water,  borne  down  as  it  was  by  the  weight  of  two  human 
beings,  who  were  apparently  lashed  to  the  rudder  stem — and 
from  the  appearance  of  small  pieces  of  wreck,  and  burnt  and 
charred  wood,  and  masses  of  cotton  burnt  to  a  cinder,  and 
floating  heavily  upon  the  water,  it  was  apparent  that  some  sad 
catastrophe  had  occurred.  It  was  immediately  and  correctly 
surmised  that  a  cotton  ship  had  taken  fire  and  burnt  to  the 
water's  edge  and  sunk,  and  that  the  hapless  beings,  to  whom 
help  was  now  arriving,  were  probably  the  sole  survivors  of  the 
crew. 

The  sloop  of  war  was  "  hove  to,"  and  a  boat  lowered  and 
rapidly  pulled  towards  the  poor  creatures,  and  it  shortly  re 
turned  with  a  lad  and  a  young  woman,  both  of  whom  were  in 
such  an  exhausted  state  that  they  were  unable  to  move  or 
speak — a  few  hours  more  of  exposure,  and  all  human  aid  would 
have  availed  naught,  for  the  female  was  already  insensible. 


THE  CABIN  BOY'S  STORY.  137 

They  were  lifted  gently  aboard  and  carefully  tended  by  the 
surgeon  and  his  assistants,  and  in  a  short  time  the  youth  had 
recovered  sufficiently  to  tell  his  story.  ' 

The  surgeon  came  on  deck  and  reported  the  fact  to  the  cap 
tain. 

"And  the  young  woman  ?"  said  the  captain  inquiringly  ; 
"  she  is  not  past  recovery,  I  hope  ?" 

"  No,  I  trust  we  shall  be  able  to  bring  her  round  yet — in 
deed  she  already  shows  symptoms  of  reviving;  but,  poor  thing, 
she  was  all  but  gone  when  she  was  brought  on  board." 

"  I  will  see  the  lad  directly,"  said  the  captain,  "  and  hear  his 
story.  I  suppose  the  young  woman  was  a  passenger.  Per 
haps  she  was  the  captain's  wife,  poor  creature." 

"  No,  I  don't  think  she  is  a  married  woman,"  replied  the 
doctor;  "  at  any  rate,  she  wears  no  wedding  ring  ;  but  here  is 
a  locket,  containing  the  portrait  of  a  young  man,  which  was 
suspended  by  a  blue  ribbon  to  her  neck — and  I  took  this  ring 
from  her  finger.  It  is  rather  a  curiosity,"  and  the  doctor 
handed  the  trinkets  to  the  captain,  saying,  "  I  must  go  down 
below  again,  and  see  how  my  patients  are  getting  on." 

The  captain  took  the  locket  and  ring  in  his  hands,  and 
slightly  glanced  at  the  former,  but  the  latter  attracted  more 
notice.  He  examined  it  curiously,  and  then  handed  it  to  the 
lieutenant,  remarking,  "  A  quaint,  curious  device,  that,  Mr. 
Ross.  1  never  saw  a  ring  like  it  before;  but  I  must  go  below 
and  see  what  the  youth  has  to  say." 

The  ring  which  the  captain  handed  to  the  lieutenant  was  a 
plain  circlet  of  gold,  with  a  massive  setting,  consisting  of  a 
star  of  small  but  pure  pearls,  and  an  emerald  heart  in  the  cen 
tre,  and  the  letter  "  J"  was  engraved  inside.  It  was  a  curi 
osity,  and  evidently  of  considerable  value. 

The  reader  will  scarcely  require  to  be  informed  that  the  sloop- 

of-war  was  the  U.  S.  ship  G ,  Commander  P ,  on  board 

of  which  young  Miller  had  received  an  appointment  as  midship 
man.  She  had  been  to  Pernambuco,  and,  after  lying  in  the 
harbor  for  some  weeks,  awaiting  orders  from  the  commodore, 
had  received  instructions  to  sail  for  Havana,  with  despatches 
to  the  American  man-of-war  in  that  harbor,  which  were  subse 
quently  to  be  sent  to  the  United  States  Government  ;  and 
after  delivering  these  to  the  commanding  officer  of  the  Ameri 
can  ship,  the  G was  ordered  to  proceed,  as  young  Miller 

had  anticipated,  to  the  coast  of  Africa. 

The  captain  descended  below,  and  questioned  the  young  lad 


138  THE  CABIN  BOYS  STORY. 

who  had  been  picked  up  from  the  wreck,  as  to  the  particulars 
of  the  disaster  which  had  befallen  him,  and  which  had  left  so 
few  yet  such  sad  traces  behind. 

"  What  is  your  name,  my  man?"  inquired  the  captain. 

"  Frank  Martin,  sir,"  replied  the  youth. 

"  And  the  name  of  the  vessel,  which,  I  presume,  has  been 
burnt?" 

"  The  Laurel,  of  Liverpool,  loaded  with  cotton,  from  New 
Orleans.  The  vessel  caught  fire  ten  days  ago,  off  the  Bahama 
islands,  but  a  considerable  distance  to  the  southward  and  west 
ward  of  them.  We  were  not  in  sight  of  any  land,  and  could 
get  no  assistance.  The  fire  burnt  slowly  for  several  days,  and 
we  had  hopes  of  getting  it  under  ;  but  at  last  it  burst  forth 
from  the  hold,  and  we  found  that  any  further  effort  to  save  the 
vessel  would  be  useless.  We  had  barely  time  to  get  out  the 
boats;  for  in  an  hour  after  the  fire  had  burst  from  the  hatch 
ways,  the  vessel  and  rigging  were  one  sheet  of  living  flame. 

"  We  had  three  boats,  and  they  held  the  whole  of  the  crew 
and  a  considerable  quantity  of  provisions,  but  they  were  sadly 
overloaded. 

"  The  night  after  we  took  to  the  boats  a  sudden  gale  arose, 
which  lasted  several  hours.  The  jolly  boat,  on  board  of  which 
was  the  young  woman  you  have  saved,  together  with  myself 
and  five  others,  was  capsized,  and  all  the  others  were  drowned. 
I  managed  to  seize  hold  of  the  rudder  of  the  boat,  and  seeing 
the  young  woman  struggling  near  me,  I  seized  a  portion  of  her 
clothing  and  dragged  her  towards  me,  and  succeeded  in  making 
both  of  us  fast  to  the  stern  of  the  boat.  In  the  morning,  when 
the  gale  moderated,  no  sign  of  the  other  boats  was  to  be  seen — 
they  were  deeply  loaded,  for  everybody  had  crowded  into  the 
larger  boats.  I  fear  they  are  lost.  Since  yesterday  morning  we 
have  been  tossing  to  and  fro,  immersed  to  our  shoulders  in  water, 
and  the  upper  portions  of  our  bodies  exposed  to  the  sun  during 
the  day  and  to  the  cold  at  night.  I  saw  the  ship  this  morning, 
and  attempted  to  call  the  attention  of  the  young  woman  to  it; 
but  she  was  even  then  insensible.  I  thought  she  was  dead,  but 
the  doctor  says  she  is  reviving.  I  managed  to  wave  my  necker 
chief,  as  well  as  I  could  with  my  stiffened  arms,  and  at  last 
had  the  happiness  of  seeing  that  we  had  been  observed,  and 
that  the  course  of  the  vessel  was  altered,  and  she  was  bearing 
down  towards  us." 

At  this  moment  the  surgeon  approached  and  said,  "  I  am 
happy  to  inform  you  that  your  companion  in  peril  is  out  of 


139 

danger,  and  will  soon  recover.  I  have  left  her  sleeping 
soundly.  Who  is  she — a  passenger,  I  presume  ?" 

"  No,  sir,  she  was  the  stewardess  of  the  Laurel ;  her  name 
is  Charlotte — at  least  so  she  was  called — but  I  never  heard 
her  surname.77 

"  The  stewardess  !"  exclaimed  the  doctor  ;  "  dear  me,  I 
shouldn't  have  thought  that.  From  her  appearance,  I  should 
take  her  to  have  been  delicately  nurtured,  arid  her  hands  show 
that  she  has  certainly  been  unused  to  hard  work." 

"  Well,  I  suppose,  my  man,"  interrupted  the  captain,  "  you 
will  have  no  objection  to  enter  your  name  on  the  ship's  books, 
since  you  have  boarded  us  in  such  a  strange  manner  ;  you  will 
then  draw  your  pay  from  this  day.  We  shall  probably  be  out 
a  twelve-mouth.  The  ship  is  bound  to  the  coast  of  Africa. 
What  say  you  ?" 

Frank  thought  he  might  as  well  make  a  virtue  of  necessity, 
and  therefore  he  readily  agreed  to  have  his  name  enrolled 
among  the  crew,  and  thus  the  late  cabin  boy  of  the  slaver  be 
came  a  seaman  on  board  a  cruiser  bound  to  aid  in  the  suppres 
sion  of  the  slave  trade  ;  but  as  yet  Frank,  for  certain  reasons 
of  his  own,  kept  his  own  counsel  with  regard  to  his  having  es 
caped  from  the  Albatross,  on  the  coast  of  Brazil. 

With  regard  to  the  young  female,  there  was  no  recourse  but 
to  take  her  to  the  coast,  on  board  the  man-of-war,  and  to  send 
her  back  to  the  United  States  by  the  first  ship  that  the  G — — 
should  mecjt  with  bound  thither. 

She  was  very  thankful  for  the  kindness  shown  her  by  the 
officers  of  the  ship  ;  but  was  very  reserved — all  that  could  be 
learnt  from  her  was  that  her  name  was  Charlotte  Herbert,  and 
noticing  this  reserve,  the  captain  and  officers  forbore  to  ques 
tion  her. 

In  the  course  of  a  few  weeks  the  G made  the  African 

coast,  and  cruised  along  it  from  Loando  as  far  north  as  Cape 
Coast  Castle,  without  meeting  with  any  slavers,  and  the  captain, 
for  the  sake  of  varying  the  monotony  of  the  cruise,  resolved  to 
visit  the  islands,  commencing  at  Fernando  Po,  and  proceeding 
southward  to  St.  Thomas  and  Aunabon. 


140 


CHAPTER  XIY. 

The  origin  of  the  Mystery  of  the  Rings. 

CAN  it  be  possible  that  two  rings  have  been  manufactured 
of  such  a  very  peculiar  appearance  ?"  asked  Charles  Mordant  of 
himself,  as  he  quitted  the  Widow  Miller  at  the  depot  of  the 
Jersey  City  ferry,  as  mentioned  in  a  preceding  chapter.  "  It 
may  be,  nay,  it  must  be  the  case.  I  am  a  fool  to  trouble  my 
self  about  the  matter." 

To  enable  the  reader  to  understand  wherefore  Charles  Mor 
dant  had  shown  such  a  degree  of  anxiety  and  apparent  distrust 
and  uneasiness  when  he  observed  the  ring  alluded  to  on  Mrs. 
Miller's  finger,  we  must  partially  retrace  our  history.  The 
reader  is  aware  that  Charles  Mordant  was,  at  the  period  of  his 
first  introduction,  studying  for  the  legal  profession  in  Boston; 
but  like  those  of  a  great  many  young  men  of  large  expecta 
tions  in  the  present  day,  and  especially  in  the  United  States, 
his  studies  were  merely  nominal.  For  form's  sake  he  attended 
chambers  occasionally,  but  the  chief  portion  of  his  time  was 
spent  in  the  pursuit  of  pleasure,  and  we  are  sorry  to  say  that 
the  pleasures  in  which  Charles  Mordant  took  delight  were  not 
of  the  most  orthodox  character.  To  tell  the  truth  he  was  a 
frequenter  of  fashionable  saloons,  gambling  houses,  and  every 
other  resort  of  which  dissipation  and  immorality  were  the 
leading  characteristics.  Some  six  months  prior  to  the  date  of 
the  opening  of  our  story  he  had  been  on  a  visit  to  Philadelphia, 
and  while  there,  by  some  means  or  other,  he  had  formed  an 
intimacy  with  a  young  lady  whose  parents  belonged  to  the 
Society  of  Friends,  and  whose  name  was  Jeannette  Dixon.  On 
the  part  of  the  young  man  the  intimacy  had  been  commenced 
merely  for  the  purpose  of  creating  some  fresh  excitement  to 
refresh  his  jaded  spirits.  Jeannette  Dixon  was  a  very  pretty 
and  interesting  girl,  and  young  Mordant  had  met  her  by 
chance  at  the  house  of  a  friend  where  she  had  been  on  a  visit. 
He  had  paid  the  modest,  unassuming  girl  marked  attention; 
and  as  he  was  a  good-looking  fellow  enough — known  to  be  the 
prospective-  heir  of  great  wealth,  and  supposed  to  be  of  good 
moral  character — and  more  particularly  as  the  young  woman 
had  heretofore  led  a  very  secluded  life,  and  was  now  just  of 


THE    CABIN    BOY'S    STORY.  141 

that  age  when  the  female  heart  is  most  susceptible  to  the 
attractions  of  the  opposite  sex,  she  had  been  much  flattered  by 
the  preference  shown  towards  her  by  young  Mordant.  She 
was  shy  and  reserved  at  first,  but  her  very  reserve,  the  fact 
that  she  kept  her  thoughts  to  herself,  rendered  her  more  readily 
though  secretly,  susceptible  to  the  young  man's  assiduities  and 
protestations  of  attachment.  The  result  was,  that  what  in  the 
first  instance  was  merely  a  pleasurable,  flattering  sensation, 
causing  her  heart  to  flutter,  and  her  cheek  to  blush,  at  the 
thought  of  being  the  object  of  the  young  man's  especial  notice 
and  favor,  rapidly  ripened  into  a  feeling  of  love.  Charles 
Mordant  likewise  began  to  discover  that  he  felt  very  different 
sensations  with  regard  to  the  fair  Quakeress,  to  those  he  had 
previously  experienced  when  he  had  thought  fit  to  patronize, 
as  he  termed  it,  any  young  lady  whom  he  could  get  to  listen 
to  his  flatteries.  He  began  to  feel  that  he  could  love 
Jeanriette  Dixon,  at  least  as  much  as  he  was  capable  of  loving 
any  one  but  himself,  and  that  if  she  were  of  a  more  wealthy 
family,  that  he  could  be  content  to  make  her  his  wife ;  but  then 
her  parents,  though  highly  respectable,  were  comparatively 
poor,  and  the  idea  of  marriage  was  not  to  be  thought  of  in 
earnest — though  he  did  not  hesitate  to  speak  of  it  to  Jeannette, 
who  otherwise  would  have  steeled  her  heart  to  all  his  protesta 
tions  of  love — or,  at  least,  would  have  striven  to  do  so,  and  if 
she  could  not,  would  have  resisted  the  temptations  that  beset 
her. 

Such  a  rigid  watch  is  kept  over  their  children  by  the  Quak 
ers,  that  it  was  impossible  that  this  attachment  on  the  part  of 
their  daughter  and  young  Mordant  could  long  be  kept  a  secret 
from  Jeannette's  parents,  and  she  was  warned  by  her  father 
and  mother  both  of  the  difference  in  the  worldly  position  of  her 
lover  and  herself,  and  also  told  that  they  would  not  give  their 
consent  to  their  daughter's  marriage  with  any  one  but  a 
member  of  their  own  peculiar  sect.  Jeannette  told  Charles  of 
this  determination  on  the  part  of  her  parents,  but  he  merely 
laughed  at  the  prejudices  of  the  old  folks,  as  he  called  them, 
and  thereby  drew  upon  himself  a  severe  rebuke  from  his  fair 
and  confiding  friend.  He,  however,  soon  soothed  her  indigna 
tion;  told  her  he  would  marry  her  at  last,  even  if  he  had  to 
wait  for  years — and  left  her  more  than  ever  assured  of  his  love. 

Thus  matters  continued  for  several  weeks.  Meanwhile  Mr. 
Dixon  had  written  to  Mr.  Mordant,  stating  in  plain  terms  the 
connection  that  existed  between  the  young  man  and  his 


142  THE  CABIN  BOY'S  STORY. 

daughter,  and  his  own  objections  to  the  marriage  as  well  on 
the  score  of  difference  of  religious  persuasion  as  of  worldly 
position.  He  received  a  letter  from  Mr.  Mordant  thanking 
him  for  the  information — agreeing  perfectly  with  his  views — 
stating  that  he  had  other  intentions  with  regard  to  his  son,  and 
that  he  never  would  give  his  consent  to  his  union  with -Miss 
Dixon.  The  old  merchant  also  wrote  to  his  son,  expressing 
the  same  sentiments,  and  threatening  him  with  disinheritance 
if  he  refused  to  act  in  accordance  with  his  wishes.  Mr.  Dixon 
showed  the  letter  to  his  daughter,  and  endeavored  to  reason 
her  out  of  her  misplaced  attachment;  but,  as  may  well  be 
imagined,  in  vain.  She  felt  confident  that  Charles  loved  her; 
had  he  not  told  her  so,  and  added  that  he  would  sooner  have 
her  for  his  wife,  and  earn  his  own  living  by  the  sweat  of  his 
brow,  than  wed  another  and  revel  in  countless  riches,  and  after 
that  could  she  doubt  him  ?  she  asked  herself,  and  her  heart 
responded — no. 

Charles  replied  to  his  father's  letter,  saying  that  it  was 
merely  a  harmless  flirtation  that  he  was  indulging  in;  that  he 
had  no  thoughts  of  anything  serious,  and  that  the  girl  and 
her  parents  must4 be  very  simple  to  imagine  such  a  thing;  to 
which  Mr.  Mordant  replied  that  he  was  glad  to  hear  it  was  so, 
at  the  same  time  jokingly  reminding  his  son  that  the  moth  that 
plays  too  near  the  candle  can  scarcely  avoid  being  singed  at 
last. 

Notwithstanding  every  precaution  on  the  part  of  her 
parents,  Charles  and  Jeannette  managed  to  contrive  stolen 
interviews,  and  at  last  he  told  her  in  reply  to  her  questioning, 
that  his  father  would  not  consent  to  their  marriage  ;  that  he 
was  going  to  Boston  to  resume  his  studies,  and  urged  her  con 
sent  to  a  private  wedding.  The  poor  girl  was  strongly 
attached  to  him  ;  she  dreaded  his  leaving  her,  and  she  had 
already  been  taunted  by  her  female  friends  with  regard  to  her 
infatuation,  as  they  were  pleased  to  term  it,  to  such  a  degree 
that  her  life  had  been  rendered  wretched.  In  an  evil  moment 
she  consented.  She  believed  that  she  was  privately  married 
by  a  minister  of  the  Baptist  church,  when  in  fact  only  a  mock 
ceremony  was  performed  by  a  graceless  corn'panion  and  tool  of 
the  young  and  abandoned  spendthrift,  and  Jeannette  Dixon 
quitted  her  happy  home  and  followed  her  supposed  husband  to 
Boston.  Mr.  Dixon  wrote  again  to  Mr  Mordant,  when  he 
discovered  the  flight  of  his  daughter,  and  the  merchant  wrote 
and  demanded  an  explanation  of  his  son.  The  young  man 


THE  CABIN  BOY  S  STORY.  143 

denied  any  knowledge  of  the  girl,  and  even  said  that  he  believed 
her  to  be  a  worthless  creature,  whom  it  were  folly  for  him  to 
trouble  himself  about  farther,  and  thus  the  poor  distressed 
parents  were  left  quite  unable  to  discover  what  had  become  of 
their  child.  Jeannette  wished  to  write  to  her  parents  ;  but  she 
was  forbidden  by  Charles,  who  said  that  he  would  see  his 
mother  in  a  short  time  and  by  her  means  obtain  his  father's 
forgiveness  ;  but,  were  the  marriage  made  known  now,  his 
father  would  in  his  anger,  act  up  to  his  threats  ;  and  fearful  of 
injuring  her  supposed  husband's  future  prospects,  poor 
Jeannette  was  led  reluctantly  to  maintain  secrecy. 

For  some  time  Charles,  who  was  really  much  attached  to  the 
young  woman,  treated  her  with  the  utmost  kindness  and  atten 
tion,  and  lavished  innumerable  presents  upon  her.  One  day  he 
chanced  to  step  into  a  jeweler's  shop,  with  the  intention  of 
making  some  purchases,  when  his  notice  was  attracted  towards 
a  ring  of  peculiar  form  and  great  value  and  beauty.  He  pur 
chased  it  and  gave  it  to  Jeannette  ;  but  the  circlet  being  too 
large  for  her  finger,  he  brought  it  back  the  next  day  to  have  it 
altered  and  to  have  the  letter  "  J  "  engraved  inside. 

At  this  time,  Captain  Seymour,  who  had  just  returned  from  a 
successful  voyage,  had  gone  on  a  short  visit  to  Boston,  and  as 
the  reader  is  aware,  he  had  been  fascinated  in  New  York  by 
the  charms  of  Mrs.  Miller's  pretty  and  interesting  daughter. 
He  was  desirous  of  making  her  a  present  of  some  jewelry,  and 
by  chance,  he  wandered  into  the  same  jeweller's  store  that  had 
in  the  morning  been  visited  by  Charles  Mordant.  He  made 
such  purchases  as  he  thought  requisite,  and  was  on  the  point  of 
leaving  the  store  when  he  said  : 

"  By-the-bye,  I  should  like  to  look  at  some  finger-rings — I 
want  to  buy  one  for  a  lady." 

The  jeweller  handed  him  a  tray  stored  with  the  articles  in 
question.  "I  don't  like  any  of  these,"  said  he,  "  they  are  all 
too  common  ;  can't  you  make  me  something  out  of  the  way — 
entirely  new  ?" 

A  sudden  thought  struck  the  jeweller.  He  would  make  him 
a  ring  similar  to  that  which  had  been  purchased  by  Charles 
Mordant.  It  was  a  singular  pattern,  and  it  was  unlikely  that 
there  were  many  like  it  to  be  found.  He  described  it  to  his 
customer,  who  gave  him-  an  order  to  make  it  as  soon  as 
possible. 

"By-the-bye,"  said  Seymour,  "engrave  the  letter  "  J"  on 
it." 


144 

The  jeweller  looked  surprised,  but  promised  to  fulfil  the  order 
as  soon  as  possible. 

He  turned  to  his  partner,  however,  as  soon  as  Seymour  had 
left  the  store,  and  said  : 

"  It  is  a  strange  coincidence.  You  recollect  about  two 
years  ago,  we  made  a  ring  for  a  lady  who  came  to  the  store  in 
deep  mourning  accompanied  by  a  gentleman — I  think  they 
were  English,  but  I  forget  their  names — it  was  an  emerald 
heart  encircled  with  diamonds,  and  the  letter  '  J '  was 
engraved  upon  it.  I  made  another  ring  set  with  similar  stones, 
and  yesterday  a  gentleman  purchased  it,  and  to-day  he  called 
for  the  purpose  of  having  it  altered,  and  the  letter  '  J ' 
engraved  upon  it.  That  gentleman  who  has  just  gone  out, 
wanted  a  ring  of  some  novel  and  strange  pattern,  and  I 
described  the  emerald  and  pearl  rings  to  him.  He  has  ordered 
one,  and  strange  enough,  has  requested  it  to  be  similarly 
engraved." 

"  It  is  strange,"  replied  the  person  addressed. 

"  I  shall  make  two  while  I  am  about  it,"  said  the  first 
speaker  ;  "  since  I  had  such  luck  in  selling  the  three,  I  may  yet 
sell  another — as  a  rare  specimen — you  know — they  seem  to 
take  people's  fancy,  as  rarities,  but  if  the  pattern  were  to 
become  common,  they  would  be  a  drug  in  the  market." 

The  jeweller,  unknown  to  either  Charles  Mordant  or  Sey 
mour,  did  make  two,  and  thus  Charles  and  the  Captain  were 
both  provided,  leaving  one  still  in  the  manufacturer's  posses 
sion. 

William  Martin,  who  the  reader  will  recollect  we  mentioned 
heretofore  as  studying  law  with  a  gentleman  in  Augusta  (Me.), 
had  about  this  time  come  on  to  Boston  to  complete  his  studies. 
The  young  man  was  at  this  time  paying  his  addresses  to  a  young 
lady  in  Augusta,  and  it  naturally  enough  occurred  to  him  to 
send  her  a  souvenir  of  his  love  and  constancy.  A  few  weeks 
after  Captain  Seymour  had  purchased  his  ring,  William  Mar 
tin  called  at  the  jeweller's  store  in  question,  and  asked  to  look 
at  some  rings  and  other  articles  of  jewelry,  and  he  was  shown 
the/ffc  simile  of  the  rings  already  spoken  of. 

"  That  will  please  Jessica,"  he  thought  to  himself.  "  It  will 
be  quite  a  curiosity  down  in  Maine  ;"  and  he  immediately  pur 
chased  it  of  the  jeweller.  "  By-thc-bye,"  said  he,  as  he  was 
pulling  out  his  purse  to  pay  for  the  trinket,  "  I  wish  you  would 
get  the  letter  '  J  '  engraved  upon  it  for  me." 

The  jeweller  was  astonished.     He  thought  at  first  that  he 


THE    CABIN    BOY'S    STORY.  145 

must  be  dreaming.  The  letter  "  J  "  began  to  assume  a  magical 
appearance  in  his  eyes  ;  but  he  promised  to  get  the  letter 
engraved. 

"  Very  strange,"  he  muttered  to  himself,  as  the  young  man 
left  the  store  ;  "  very  strange,  indeed.  I  don't  half  like  it, 
somehow  or  other.  I  won't  make  any  more  of  those  rings.'' 

It  was  a  similar  ring  to  that  which  Mrs.  Miller  wore  that 
Charles  Mordant  had  given  to  Jearmette  Dixon  ;  and  Captain 
Seymour  had  given  the  ring  he  had  purchased  to  Jane  Miller. 

In  the  following  chapter  the  reader  will  perceive  that  Charles 
Mordant  had  ample  reason  to  feel  the  uneasiness  he  could 
scarcely  dissemble,  when  he  saw  the  emerald  ring  on  the  finger 
of  the  widow. 


CHAPTER  XY. 

Showing  how  Mr.  Mordant  obtained  possession  of  the  Widow's  Property. 

BETWEEN  the  City  Hall  and  Wall  street,  the  great  financial 
centre  of  the  city  of  New  York — although,  of  late  years,  the 
Commercial  Metropolis  of  the  Western  world  has  stretched 
itself  far,  far  along  towards  the  confines  of  the  Island  of  Man 
hattan — and  between  Broadway,  the  great  centre  throughfare 
of  this  ever-crowded,  ever-increasing  emporium  of  commerce, 
and  William  street — leading  towards  the  entrance  of  the  sea, 
commonly  known  by  the  misnomer  of  the  East  River — is  a 
dingy  neighborhood,  amidst  a  labyrinth  of  dingy  narrow  streets; 
the  sidewalks  narrow  enough  at  the  best,  eternally  choked  up 
with  goods,  carted  down  for  the  purpose  of  storage,  or  set  out 
ready  for  exportation  to  all  parts  of  this  great  Union — aye, 
and  to  all  parts  of  the  world  beyond;  or  else,  less  pardonably 
lumbered  with  empty  packing  cases,  which  the  passer  by  im 
agines,  perchance,  to  be  full,  and  which,  regardless  of  the  by 
laws  of  the  city,  and  regardless  of  the  rights  of  the  foot  pas 
senger,  are  daily  paraded  by  the  owners -of  the  rubbish,  to  be 
taken  in  by  their  clerks  at  night  merely  for  the  gratification  of 
a  ridiculous  vanity — and  to  make  the  world  of  passengers  be 
lieve  they  are  doing  an  immense  deal  more  business  than  really 
falls  to  their  share. 

In  this  sainy  neighborhood  are  numerous  rattle  trap  build 
ings — the  exterior  of  which,  pcrluips,  may  be  substantial 

7 


146 

enough,  though  they  seldom  have  any  other  outward  recom 
mendation,  while  the  interiors  are  in  every  imaginable  process 
of  dilapidation;  stairs  worn  into  holes  by  continual  treading; 
plaster  fallen  away  ;  dirty  passages — with  ruinous  banisters 
deluding  the  unwary  visitor  with  a  promise  of  support,  which 
he  would  be  luckless  indeed  to  trust  to,,  out  of  which  rooms 
open  displaying  floors  covered  with  the  introdden  dust  of  many 
years;  and  windows  which,  since  the  day  the  glazier  completed 
his  work,  have  never  known  the  luxury  of  clean  water;  win 
dows  from  which  the  dim  light  that  is  enabled  to  find  its  way 
into  those  dark  and  narrow  streets,  is  half  excluded  by  the 
neglect  of  the  occupants  of  the  rooms,  and  in  the  corners  of 
which  spiders  innumerable  have  taken  up  their  abode,  feeling 
secure,  in  consequence  of  long  immunity  from  the  fatal  broom 
of  the  housewife — the  furniture  is  scant  and  dreary  as  can  well 
be — bare  deal  stands,  furnished  with  compartments  filled  with 
little  pieces  of  lead-colored  metal,  before  each  of  which  stands 
a  coatless  individual  who  is  busily  occupied  in  removing  the 
pieces  of  metal  from  the  stands,  and  placing  them  one  by  one 
in  regular  order  in  a  curiously  formed  metal  case  he  holds  in 
his  left  hand.  A  strange  click,  click,  click,  as  the  several 
pieces  of  metal  are  fixed  in  the  case  or  "stick/'  resounds 
through  the  room — the  floor  of  which  is  littered  with  pieces 
of  dirty  manuscript  and  long  slips  of  printed  paper;  yet,  from 
these  dingy  places,  daily,  weekly,  arid  at  all  times,  printed  by 
night,  and  printed  by  day,  week  day  and  Sabbath  day  alike, 
as  may  be  known  by  the  incessant  rumbling  of  the  mighty 
steam  engines  and  printing  presses  buried  in  subterranean 
caverns  beneath  the  streets,  like  so  many  volcanoes  in  a  state 
of  perpetual  proximity  to  eruption,  issue  the  thousands  and 
tens  of  thousands  of  newspapers,  magazines,  periodicals,  cir 
culars,  and  books  of  all  descriptions,  which  well  excuse  the 
boasts  of  Americans  that  the  people  of  this  country  are  the 
greatest  readers,  and  the  best  patrons  of  the  gray  goose  quill, 
in  the  wide  world. 

It  is  from  the  dingy,  murky  abodes  that  we  have  described, 
that  are  constantly  being  sent  forth  the  clean,  clear,  well-folded 
pages  of  printed  matter,  which  form  the  daily  intellectual 
banquet  of  hundreds  of  thousands  of  human  beings — who,  as 
they  read  the  handsomely  printed,  well  bound  volume,  littlo 
dream  of  the  dreary  passage  through  which  its  pages  have  pro 
gressed,  since  the  thoughts  expressed  by  the  printed  letters 
came  from  the  brain  of  the  author,  and  were  jotted  down,  as 


147 

they  struggled  into  life,  on  the  blotted  manuscript.  And  in 
this  neighborhood,  likewise,  are  numerous  offices,  scarcely  if  at 
all  more  comfortable  than  those  tenanted  by  the  printers,  oc 
cupied  by  a  class  of  men  whom  it  has  long  been  a  standing 
joke  to  designate  as  "  necessary  evils"  in  a  civilized  community 
— the  class  of  lawyers;  necessary  for  what?  because  the  in 
cessant  competition  in  business,  and  the  continual  desire 
amongst  civilized  men  to  outstrip  their  neighbors  in  the  race 
for  wealth,  and  fame,  and  power,  leads  them  to  fraud  and 
chicanery — foreign  to  human  nature  in  its  uncultivated  and  less 
corrupted  condition,  and  compels  the  intervention  of  the  man 
of  law  to  settle  those  disputes  which  in  ruder  times  were 
settled  by  a  resort  to  physical  s£rife.  These  men  herd  thick  as 
bees  in  this  vicinity;  lawyers  of  every  calibre;  men  versed  in 
legal  lore;  of  extensive  knowledge,  and  of  high  attainments — 
men  of  such  established  integrity,  and  such  acknowledged 
talent,  that  the  finger  of  envy  and  malevolence  may  point  at 
them  in  vain — men  whom  to  know  is  to  honor  and  esteem. 
And  here  those  men  herd  likewise,  who  habitually  prostitute 
the  little  legal  knowledge  they  possess — and  who  use  the 
means  of  sewing  discord  and  hatching  mischief  which  their 
profession  gives  to  them,  for  the  vilest  purposes,  if  a  pecuniary 
reward  is  held  out  to  them  as  an  inducement  to  the  practice 
of  villany,  such  as  they  cannot  hope  to  reap  in  an  honest 
manner. 

It  was  towards  this  neighborhood  that,  as  we  mentioned 
in  a  former  chapter,  Charles  Mordant  had  directed  his  steps 
on  the  occasion  of  his  visit  to  the  lawyer,  whom  we  have 
chosen — having  an  wholesome  fear  of  the  law  of  libel  before 
our  eyes,  and  knowing  that  the  nearer  the  truth  the  greater 
is  the  libel  held  to  be — to  designate  by  the  name  of  Harvey. 

The  reader  will  recall  to  his  recollection  the  circumstances 
of  the  younger  Mordant's  previous  visit,  for  the  purpose  of 
raising  money  on  the  security  of  his  future  expectations,  to 
meet  the  demands  upon  his  purse,  created  by  his  reckless 
extravagance. 

Mr.  Harvey  had  discovered,  by  a  close  examination  into 
some  private  documents  belonging  to  the  elder  Mordant,  which 
Charles  had  brought  him,  that  there  was  something  wrong 
with  regard  to  a  certain  property  in  New  Jersey,  held  by  the 
merchant,  which  had  formerly  belonged  to  Mr.  Miller.  True, 
the  property  had  been  purchased  from  a  Dutchman,  although 
at  a  mere  nominal  price,  quite  in  a  regular  and  business-like 


148 

manner;  but  the  lawyer,  do  all  he  could,  was  unable  to  dis 
cover  by  what  right  the  Dutchman  had  sold  it,  or  by  virtue  of 
what  original  Dutch  claim  it  had  passed  from  the  possession  of 
Mr.  Miller  into  that  of  Mr.  Peyster,  who  farmed  a  small  pro 
perty  of  his  own,  somewhere  in  its  neighborhood,  and  who  had 
emigrated  from  Amsterdam  some  fifty  years  before,  when  a 
mere  child. 

Mr.  Harvey  had  made  a  good  deal  of  money  out  of  Mr. 
Mordant  in  a  fair  and  legitimate  way,  as  legal  matters  go,  and 
now  he  did  riot  see  any  just  cause  or  impediment  to  his  making 
a  little  more,  in  the  way  of  "  black  mail/''  as  it  is  called  by 
vulgar,  little-minded  individuals,  who  cannot  understand  the 
•delicate  operations  of  speculators  upon  other  people's  finances 
— especially  if  he  could  prove  the  merchant  guilty  of  under 
handed  and  fraudulent  dealings  with  a  simple  and  unprotected 
widow  woman,  and  that  widow  woman  his  own  near  relative, 
and  could  frighten  him  by  threats  of  exposure  ;  therefore,  when 
the  young  spendthrift,  Charles,  called,  he  had  put  off  until  the 
following  Monday  the  further  consideration  of  the  young  man's 
business,  and  had  determined,  meanwhile,  to  hunt  up  the  said 
Dutch  farmer,  Mr.  Peyster. 

This  was  no  very  difficult  matter,  for  the  plodding  old 
Dutchman  did  not  reside  more  than  thirty  miles  from  New 
York,  in  the  neighboring  State  of  New  Jersey ;  and  Mr. 
Harvey  took  the  railroad  cars  to  a  certain  village  where  was 
located  the  nearest  depot  to  the  farm,  and  then,  hiring  a  wagon 
from  the  landlord  of  the  village  hotel,  he  set  off  by  himself 
towards  the  residence  of  the  farmer,  whom  he  found  guiding 
the  plow  with  his  own  hands  across  the  furrows  of  one  of  his 
own  fields. 

"  Good  morning,  sir ;  good  morning !"  said  Mr.  Harvey, 
who  had  dismounted  from  the  vehicle,  and  making  the  reins 
fast,  had  proceeded  across  the  field  to  where  the  Dutchman 
and  his  son  were  employed. 

"  Have  I  the  pleasure  of  seeing  Mr.  Peyster  ?" 

"  Mine  name  is  Peyster,"  said  the  Dutchman,  surlily,  and 
without  discontinuing  his  labor ;  "  but  I  don't  know  what  for 
it  should  be  any  bleasure  to  you  to  know  dat — w-hit,  g'lang  1" 
shouting  to  the  horses  that  were.yoked  to  the  plow,  and  crack 
ing  his  whip,  leaving  the  lawyer  in  some  doubt  whether  the 
expression  applied  to  himself  or  to  the  horses. 

"  But,  my  good  sir,  if  I  should  happen  to  have  business 
with  you  that  would  put  money  in  your  pocket  and  mine,  then, 


THE  CABIN  BOY'S  STORY.  149 

perhaps,  it  would  be  a  mutual  pleasure  for  us  to  hold  conversa 
tion  together." 

"So!  I  likes  de  money — bus'ness  mit  me,  eh?  veil,  vat 
business  has  you  mit  me  dat  shall  be  bleasant  to  us  both  ?" 

"  My  dear  sir,  I  am  a  lawyer,  and " 

"Der  tuyfil  you  is  !"  interrupted  the  farmer,  "den  let  me 
tell  you  I  vants  no  bus'uess  nor  no  bleasure  mit  you  neider, 
mynheer — w-hit,  gee  whoo  1  vat  der  tuyfil  is  de  matter  mit 
de  horses  ?" 

Mr.  Harvey  saw  at  a  glance  that  the  Dutchman  was  a  rude, 
ignorant  clown,  yet  he  judged  him  to  be  a  shrewd  fellow  withal, 
with  whom  it  was  no  use  to  beat  about  the  bush,  so  he  re 
solved  to  come  at  once  to  the  purpose  of  his  visit. 

"I  called  respecting  a  little  property  near  your  farm — ad 
joining  it,  I  fancy — which  you  sold  some  time  ago  to  Mr. 
Mordant  of  New  York.  Let  me  see  ;  how  long  ago  was  it  ?" 

"  Yat  ish  dat  to  you  ?  I  sold  it,  and  I  got  de  money  and  I 
spends  him — dat  is  all." 

"  Not  quite  all,  my  good  friend,  since  I  have  reason  to  be 
lieve  the  property  was  not  yours  to  sell,  and  the  rightful 
owner  is  about  to  reclaim  it." 

"It  vas  not  mine  to  sell  !"  exclaimed  the  Dutchman,  "who 
tells  you  dat  ?  If  he  vas  not,  I've  not  got  him  now.  Mr. 
Mordant  has  got  him,  and  dey  must  go  and  ask  him — I  has'nt 
got  noting  to  do  mit  him." 

"But  it  is  upon  you  that  the  claim  will  be  made  by  Mr. 
Mordant  for  the  money  he  paid  you  for  the  property,  unless 
you  have  the  title  deeds  to  prove  your  claim  over  that  of  the 
late  Mr.  Miller." 

"  I  knows  noting  of  de  late  Mr.  Miller— I  never  see  him — • 
Mr.  Mordant  told  me  de  estate  vas  mine,  and  I  sold  him  for 
less  as  he  was  wort,  too — it  is  no  bus'ness  of  mine." 

"  You  will  find  to  your  cost  that  it  is  business  of  yours,  and 
very  serious  business,  too,  my  good  sir,  unless  you  can  prove 
that  you  really  had  a  claim  upon  it,  or,  indeed,  unless  you  were 
deceived,  overreached  by  Mr.  Mordant." 

"  Yy,  vat  vill  dey  do  mit  me — take  mine  varm  from  me  ?" 
said  the  Dutchman,  evidently  growing  alarmed.  Suppose  I 
vas  deceived — vat  else  you  call  it — by  Mr.  Mordant,  vot  den  ?" 

"  Then,  perhaps,  in  consideration  of  your  ignorance,  the 
odium  would  fall  upon  the  merchant,  and  he  might — mind  I  do 
not  say  he  would — be  compelled  to  make  restitution  to  the  real 
proprietors  out  of  his  own  pocket." 


150  THE  CABIN  BOY'S  STORY. 

"  Yat  can  I  do  mit  de  matter  ?"  asked  the  Dutchman,  now 
stopping  his  team,  beside  which  the  lawyer  had  hitherto 
walked,  his  feet  sinking  into  the  sandy,  clayey  soil  at  every  step 
he  made. 

"Finish  your  farrow,  and  then  hitch  up  your  team  to  the 
gate  for  half  an  hour,  and  step  into  the  farm-house  with  me. 
I  told  you  at  first  I  wanted  to  talk  matters  over  with  you, 
and  perhaps  to  help  you  as  well  as  myself  to  a  way  of  getting 
a  little  money." 

This  the  farmer  agreed  to  ;  and  the  furrow  completed,  he 
hitched  the  team  to  the  gate,  and  led  the  way  into  the  farm 
house. 

"  Now,"  said  Mr.  Harvey,  when  he  and  his  boorish  compan 
ion  were  seated — "now,  it  is  very  probable — indeed,  I  may  say 
certain,  that  the  prosecuting  party  will  put  this  matter  into  my 
hands.  I  shall  in  that  case  have  to  prosecute  you  as  principal 
in,  and  Mr.  Mordant  as  accessary,  towards  the  perpetration 
of  a  wicked  and  flagitious  fraud — one  that  will  arouse  the  indig 
nation  of  the  whole  community  and  cause  the  utter  ruin  of  you 
both  ;  unless  you,  by  divulging  to  me  now,  the  means  by 
which  Mr.  Mordant  induced  you — ignorantly — you  mark  me  ! 
to  suppose  the  property  to  be  yours,  and  to  sell  it  to  him  for 
less  than  its  value — enable  me  to  plead  that  ignorance  in  your 
behalf,  in  a  court  of  justice.  It  will,  let  me  add,  be  useless  to 
deny  it  ;  because,  I  tell  you  at  once,  I  know  all  about  the 
matter." 

"  Vat  you  come  for,  den — to  ask  me  to  tell  you  vat  you 
know  ?  Yat  for  you  not  go  to  Mr.  Mordant.  I  am  a  poor 
man — I  have  got  no  money  to  give  you." 

'•'  When  I  say,  I  know  all  about  the  matter,  I  mean  that  I 
am  perfectly  aware  that  fraud  has  been  committed  by  both  you 
and  Mr.  Mordant ;  but  I  am  willing  to  believe  that  Mr.  Mor 
dant  deceived  you — took  advantage  of  your  ignorance,  and 
that  the  crime  rests  upon  his  shoulders." 

"So  it  does — so  help  mine  Got,  it  does,"  exclaimed  the  far 
mer,  now  thoroughly  frightened.  "  I  had  netting  to  do  mit  It, 
but  to  take  the  monies  he  paid  me — mine  Got,  and  spend  him 
too.  Dunder  an  Blitzen  I  spends  every  shent  of  him,  long 
ago." 

11  Well,  well,  my  good  friend  ;  don't  be  alarmed.  You,  I 
tell  you  again,  if  you  conceal  nothing  from  me  have  nothing  to 
fear  for  yourself.  Now,  tell  me,"  and  the  wily  lawyer  hitched 
his  chair  closer  to  the  farmer  and  laid  his  hand  encouragingly 


THE    CABIN    BOY'S    STORY.  151 

upon  his  knee,  "now  tell  me,  my  honest  friend,  how  this  little 
affair  was  managed  ?" 

The  Dutchman  hemmed  and  coughed  to  clear  his  throat,  and 
sat  for  some  moments  in  a  brown  study — seemingly  endeavor 
ing  to  recall  the  subject  to  his  memory.  At  length  he 
exclaimed  : —  • 

"  I  must  take  a  smoke  mit  my  pipe — mine  Got  !  I  can 
tink  of  noting  till  I  have  smoke  mit  my  pipe." 

"  Smoke,  by  all  means,  my  friend,"  said  the  lawyer,  who, 
although  annoyed  at  the  farmer's  dilatoriness  and  stupidity, 
knew  he  would  gain  nothing  by  crossing  his  humor. 

The  pipe  was  produced,  filled  and  lighted,  and  patiently 
puffed  for  a  full  quarter  of  an  hour  before  the  ideas  of  the 
Dutchman  began  to  brighten  up.  At  last  he  laid  it  aside  and 
commenced. 

"It  might  be  ten  years  ago — and  p'raps  more  longer  as  dat 
— Mr.  Mordant  comes  to  me  von  day  vcn  I  was  plowing  on  my 
farm,  just  as  you  came  to-day,  and  he  says  : — 

"  '  Goot  morning,  Mynheer  Peyster ' — and  I  said,  'goot 
morning  Mr.  Mordant' — because  I  knowd  him  a  goot  long  time 
before — and  he  said  '  I  am  glad  to  hear  of  your  goot  fortune, 
Mynheer  Peyster — that  is  a  nice  little  property  you  have 

got; 

"  And  I  said,  '  Yere  is  my  property  Mr.  Mordant  ?  You 
are  joking  mit  me.'  'Cause  den  I  only  rented  the  little  farm  I 
owns  now. 

"  '  Yat  !'  he  cried  ;  *  you  doesn't  know  dat  your  great  grand- 
fader,  who  came  out  to  this  country  by  order  of  the  States 
General  of  the  Nederlands,  many  years  before  you  was  born, 
owned  iill  dis  nice  property  hereby,  and  you  are  the  rightful 
heir  to  it  1' 

"  '  Xo,'  I  tells  him — and  he  says — l  tink  now  Mynheer  Pey 
ster,  tink  whether  you  never  heard  your  fader,  veil  you  vas  a 
little  boy  in  Amsterdam,  speaking  of  his  property  in  America,' 
and  he  put  a  piece  of  money  in  my  hand  and  says,  '  let's  come 
into  de  house,  Mynheer  Peyster,  and  talk  matters  over/  jist  as 
you  said  jist  now  :  and  I  walks  into  de  house,  as  I  did  mit  you, 
and  takes  my  pipe  and  lights  him,  and  begins  to  smoke  and  to 
tink." 

And  thus  reminded  of  his  favorite  indulgence,  the  Dutchman 
again  took  up  his  pipe  and  commenced  to  smoke,  and  Mr. 
Harvey  was  compelled  to  wait  until  he  again  laid  the  pipe 
aside. 


152 

"  'At  last/  he  continued,  I  turned  to  Mr.  Mordant  and 
looked  him  in  de  face  and  said — '  I  have  been  tinking  over  de 
matter.' 

"  '  And  at  what  conclusion  has  you  arrived  V  he  asked,  put 
ting  auoder  piece  of  money  into  my  hand,  and  I  looked  at  de 
coin  and  said,  '  Yah  —  I  tink  1.  do  recollect  someting  of  de 
kind.' 

"  And  he  put  his  hand  in  his  pocket  and  took  out  his  purse, 
and  said  : 

"  '  Tink  again  my  vriend — be  sure  of  it/  and  I  said,  looking 
at  de  purse, 

"  *  Dunner  and  blitzen  1 1  am  sure  of  it  now/ 

"  *  And  it  was  in  New  Jersey/  said  he,  '  on  a  portion  of  the 
State  that  was  formerly  subject  to  Holland — in  fact  it  was  in 
dis  neighborhood/  and  he  pulled  open  de  strings  of  his  purse. 

"  '  Yah  /'  I  said,  '  I  recollect  now  it  vas  here.' 

"  '  You  are  sure  ?'  he  said,  laying  a  bill  on  de  table.  '  Quite 
sure/  said  I,  and  I  took  up  de  bill  and  put  it  in  mine  pocket 
mid  de  rest  ob  de  money. 

"  And  Mr.  Mordant  said,  '  vat  a  shame  it  was  dat  de  poor 
Dutchmen  should  be  cheated  out  of  dere  rights — and  I  said  : 

"  '  Yah!'  and  Mr.  Mordant  went  on. 

"  '  Suppose  now  I  should  happen  to  find  dis  old  claim  of 
yours — vould  you  sell  me  de  estate  at  a  reasonable  price  ?' 

"  '  Yah?  said  I,  and  he  replied,  '  good  morning,  Mynheer 
Peyster/  and  vent  avay,  and  I  took  up  mine  pipe  and  sat  and 
smoked  and  counted  the  monies  and  tought  I  vas  in  luck. 

"  A  week  afterwards  he  came  again,  and  brought  mit  him  an 
old  lawyer — who  had  a  dirty  piece  of  parchment  in  his  pocket, 
and  dey  said  dat  vas  my  claim,  and  asked  vould  I  sell  it — and 
I  said  '  Yah,  I  vould/  and  dey  offers  me  a  tousand  dollars  for 
it,  and  I  takes  it,  and  den  I  goes  and  buys  dis  farm  mit  de 
money,  and  gets  me  a  vife,  dat  is  all  I  knows/' 

"  Hem  !"  exclaimed  Mr.  Harvey — "  very  well  and  clearly 
told,  my  friend.  Now,  if  I  give  you  twenty  dollars,  will  you 
relate  this  to-morrow  in  the  presence  of  a  witness — whom  I 
shall  bring  here  ?  Mind,  the  relation  must  be  made  volun 
tarily  on  your  part — say  one  word  of  the  money,  or  of  any 
previous  visit  from  me  and  you  are  a  lost  man." 

"  I  vill  take  de  monies/'  answered  the  farmer. 

"  Very  well,  now,  can  you  write  ?" 

"  -No,  but  mine  vrow  can." 

"  Then  let  her  write  a  letter  which  I  will  dictate/' 


THE    CABIN    BOY'S    STORY.  153 

"  As  you  please,"  said  the  farmer — and  he  called  his  wife 
into  the  room. 

"Your  husband,  Mrs.  Peyster,"  said  Mr.  Harvey,  "wishes 
you  to  write  a  letter  to  a  gentleman  in  New  York,  which  I 
will  put  in  the  post-office  for  him  as  I  go  through  the  village." 

"  1  shall  be  happy  to  write  it,  sir,"  said  the  female,  who  was 
a  smart,  tidy  American  woman. 

"  Then  please  to  write  as  I  dictate." 

Holly  Farm New  Jersey. 

"  DEAR  SIR — Can  you  call  at  our  farm  at  your  earliest  con 
venience,  and  bring  a  gentleman  with  you  who  will  serve  as  a 
legal  witness  ?  My  husband  has  something  to  communicate  to 
you,  as  Mr.  Mordant's  legal  adviser,  of  the  utmost  importance 
to  him,  and  to  that  gentleman  also.  On  no  account,  however, 
mention  this  to  Mr.  Mordant  until  you  have  called  upon  my 
husband  or  your  visit  will  be  useless. 

Respectfully,  CATHERINE  PEYSTER, 

for  my  husband,  Peter  Peyster." 

"I  hope,  sir,  there  is  nothing  in  this  letter  calculated  to 
injure  my  husband,"  said  the  farmer's  wife,  when  she  had 
finished  writing,  looking  anxiously  at  Mr.  Harvey. 

"  Nothing  whatever,  I  assure  you  ;  on  the  contrary,  it  will 
result  to  his  benefit.  Now,"  he  added,  "please  to  direct  the 
letter  to 

"  John  Harvey,  Esq.,  Solicitor,  &c.f  &c., 

No — ,  N street, 

New  York." 

The  letter  was  directed  and  sealed,  and  dropped  into  the 
post-office  at  the  next  village,  and  Mr.  Harvey  wished  the 
farmer  and  his  wife  "  good-day,"  and  returned  to  New  York. 

On  the  following  day  he  again  visited  Peyster,  taking  with 
him  his  clerk,  and  the  depositions  of  the  farmer  were  duly 
taken  down,  and  the  paper  signed  by  both  the  parties. 

Thus  armed,  Mr.  Harvey  returned  home,  and  on  the  same 
evening  .visited  Mr.  Mordant.  That  gentleman  was  seated 
with  his  family  in  the  parlor ;  but  upon  hearing  that  Mr.  Har 
vey  wished  to  see  him,  he  directed  lights  to  be  placed  in  his 
study,  and  proceeded  thither  to  meet  him. 

"Good  evening,  Mr.  Harvey,"  said  he,  "pray  be  seated. 
7* 


154 

To  what  am  I  indebted  for  the  pleasure  of  such  a  rarity  as  a 
visit  from  you  ?" 

"  To  a  matter  involving  rather  serious  consequences,  my  dear 
sir,"  said  Mr.  Harvey,  taking  from  his  pocket  the  document 
containing  the  depositions  of  the  farmer. 

"  Bless  me !  what's  the  matter  ?"  exclaimed  Mr.  Mordant. 
"Nothing  having  reference  to  that  scapegrace  son  of  mine, 
Charles,  I  hope  ;  that  boy,  Mr.  Harvey,  is  a  source  of  great 
uneasiness  to  me — not  that  I  believe  there  is  anything  really 
evil  in  his  disposition,  but  he  is  wild,  extravagant,  and  careless. 
Young  men  now-a-days,  sir, — the  sons  of  wealthy  parents,  who 
know  that  they  will  be  in  future  amply  provided  foa* — are 
dreadfully  improvident,  and  are  a  source  of  great  anxiety  to 
their  parents." 

"  Set  your  mind  at  ease  on  this  subject,  Mr.  Mordant ;  this 
matter  does  not  relate  to  the  young  gentleman,  but  to  your 
self  more  particularly.  We  men  of  law,  Mr.  Mordant,  are 
sometimes  placed,  with  regard  to  our  clients  and  patrons,  in 
rather  an  awkward  position.  I  was  sent  for,  a  day  or  two 
since,  by  a  man  named  Peyster,  a  Dutch  farmer  I  believe,  who 
having  got  some  strange  whim  in  his  head,  fancied  that  his  con 
science  troubled  him  on  account  of  the  disposal  of  some  pro 
perty  he  came  into  in  New  Jersey  several  years  ago,  which 
was  supposed,  as  far  as  I  can  learn,  to  have  belonged  to  a 
clergyman  named  Miller — a  relative  of  yours,  Mr.  Mordant, 
but  upon  which  property  this  Peyster  had  an  old  Dutch  claim. 
Here  is  the  letter,  you  see.  Please  to  read  it"  (handing  the 
letter  he  himself  had  dictated,  to  Mr.  Mordant.) 

The  merchant  read  the  letter,  and  returned  it,  merely  say 
ing— 

"  Well,  pray  proceed,  Mr.  Harvey.     What  then  ?" 

"  Thinking  that,  perhaps,  some  interests  of  yours  were  in 
volved,  I  visited  the  man  according  to  his  request,  and  found 
that  he  was  a  rude,  ignorant  Dutch  farmer,  but  very  shrewd 
and  intelligent,  Mr.  Mordant.  I  may  say,  sir,  very  shrewd." 

And  the  lawyer  refreshed  himself  with  a  pinch  of  snuff, 
handing  the  box  afterwards  to  Mr.  Mordant. 

"  No,  I  thank  you,"  said  the  latter,  "  I  never  indulge  in 
taking  snuff;  but  what  was  the  nature  of  the  subject  upon 
which  he  wished  to  speak  with  you  ?" 

"It  related  to  the  property  in  New  Jersey,  as  I  have  said," 
replied  Mr.  Harvey.  "  Here  are  the  depositions  he  made.  I 
will  read  them,"  and  the  lawyer  read  them  through  steadily 


THE  CABIN  BOY'S  STORY.  155 

and  with  emphasis.  "  You  see,  my  dear  sir,"  he  continued, 
when  he  had  concluded  the  reading,  "  that  this  document  will 
place  you  in  a  very  awkward  position — a  very  disagreeable 
position,  indeed,  if  the  man  should  choose  to  be  obstinate." 

"  But,  Mr.  Harvey,  who  will  take  heed  of  the  ravings  of  a 
man  like  Peyster  ?  he  is  laboring  under  some  delusion.  I  have 
the  deed  in  my  possession,  and  will  show  it  you.  It  is  proof 
indisputable  of  the  claim — which  I  purchase  in  good  faith  ;" 
and  the  merchant  rose  from  his  seat,  and  proceeded  to  extract 
the  deed  from  an  iron  safe  in  the  study. 

Mr.  Harvey  was  fully  prepared  for  him  ;  he  had  not  resolved 
upon  his  action  in  this  matter  without  providing  himself  with 
every  necessary  means  to  go  through  with  it.  When  Charles 
Mordant,  amongst  other  things,  had  abstracted  this  deed  from 
his  father's  safe  in  order  fully  to  satisfy  the  lawyer  of  his  fu 
ture  ability  to  reimburse  any  amount  of  money  he  could  raise 
for  him,  Mr.  Harvey  had  accidently  held  the  yellow  parchment 
up  to  the  light,  and  discovering,  by  the  merest  accident,  the 
private  mark  and  date  of  the  manufacturer  of  the  parchment, 
found  that  it  had  been  manufactured  in  London,  upwards 
of  a  -century  after  the  conquest  of  New  Netherlands  by  the 
British,  in  fact  some  time  after  the  Declaration  of  the  Inde 
pendence  of  the  United  States  of  America  ;  and  this  he  knew 
was  sufficient  proof  of  its  being  a  forgery,  and  that  the  ap 
pearance  of  age  had  been  affected  by  artificial  means.  This 
discovery  it  was  which  had  let  him  into  the  secret  of  the  fraud 
ulent  possession  of  the  property  of  Mr.  Mordant,  and  had  de 
termined  him  with  regard  to  his  future  operations. 

He  had  carefully  taken  a  copy  of  the  deed  ;  making  a  spe 
cial  note  of  the  date  on  the  parchment,  in  the  margin,  and  had 
subsequently  given  the  parchment  an  aj~  ^earance  of  sufficient 
age,  and  then,  when  Charles  had  visited  him  a  second  time,  he 
had  directed  him  to  replace  the  will  and  deed,  and  the  other 
documents.  It  was  this  copy  he  had  shown  to  Mr.  Peyster. 

No  sooner  was  the  deed  shown  him,  triumphantly,  by  the 
merchant,  than  his  quick  eye  glanced  at  the  mark,  which  was 
only  observable  by  a  keen  scrutiny  whea  the  parchment  was 
held  in  a  particular  light. 

"  Humph!"  exclaimed  the  sharp-witted  man  of  law.  "  Who 
wa<:  the  attorney  who  effected  the  transfer  of  this  deed,  Mr. 
Mordant  ?  It  was  before  I  was  honored  with  your  patron 
age  ?" 

"  His  name  was  Johnston.     He  died  suddenly  about  a  year 


156  THE  CABIN  BOY'S  STORY. 

afterwards.     He  was  a  keen  fellow  •  one  not  likely  to  allow 
himself  to  be  taken  in." 

"  Excuse  me,  Mr.  Mordant,  I  meant  no,  offence  sir,  indeed, 
I  should  be  sorry  to  suppose  for  a  moment,  that  you  were  privy 
to  the  roguery  which  is  apparent  in  this  affair  ;  but,  I  should 
say  that  this  Mr.  Johnston  was  a  keen  fellow.  He  made  a  copy 
of  the  deed,  which,  by  some  means  or  other,  has  got  into  Pey- 
ster's  hands,  and  the  perusal  of  which  has  led  to  the  qualms  of 
conscience,  which  induced  him  to  send  for  me.  On  that  copy, 
in  the  margin,  it  is  stated  that  the  manufacturer's  mark  is  dated 
many,  many  years  subsequently  to  the  protested  grant  of  the 
land.  Now,  I  see  that  the  original  deed,  which  professes  to  be 
a  grant  of  a  certain  quantity  of  land  to  Pierre  de  Peyster — the 
ancestor,  T  presume,  of  the  farmer  Peyster  of  whom  you  pur 
chased  the  estate — is  dated  in  the  year  1654,  while  the  parch 
ment  on  which  it  was  written,  was  manufactured  in  the  year 
1789.  A  most  conclusive  proof  Mr.  Mordant,  of  the  worth- 
lessness  of  the  deed." 

Mr.  Mordant  turned  pale.  He,  for  the  moment,  forgot  him 
self  ;  and  said — 

"  But  this  man  Peyster  is  an  ignorant  fellow.  He  cannot 
read.  How  could  he  have  made  the  discovery  ?" 

The  astute  lawyer  took  no  heed  of  the  implied  admission  of 
his  knowledge  of  the  forgery  on  the  part  of  the  merchant  ;  but 
he  replied — 

"  You  forget,  my  dear  sir,  that  his  wife  can  read  :  recollect 
it  was  she  who  wrote  the  letter  in  her  husband's  name.  Oh  ! 
these  women  are  always  up  to  some  mischief." 

"  I  must  have  been  deceived  by  Johnston  ;  he  must  have 
been  a  consummate  scoundrel,"  said  Mordant;  "  but,  really,  this 
is  a  most  unpleasant  business.  Excuse  me,  Harvey,  but  you 
must  be  aware  in  what  an  awkward  position  I  should  be  placed 
should  the  affair  be  bruited  abroad.  It  is  a  matter  of  days 
gone  by — " 

"  And  all  the  more  unpleasant,  in  consequence  of  the  former 
proprietor  being  a  relative  of  yours,  I  believe,"  said  Mr.  Harvey, 
calmly  interrupting  the  merchant,  while  he  helped  himself  to 
another  pinch  of  snuff.  "  People  are  so  prone  to  scandal  riow- 
a-days,  that  your  enemies,  and  every  man  in  business — espe 
cially  every  man  of  wealth  like  you,  my  dear  sir,  has  enemies. 
Your  enemies,  I  say,  would  seize  upon  the  facts,  as  a  capital 
pretext  to  destroy  the  excellent  reputation  for  integrity  that 
you  enjoy." 


157 

"  What  can  be  done  under  the  circumstances  ?"  inquired  Mr. 
Mordant,  In  an  agitated  manner.  "The  matter  as  I  have  ob 
served,  is  an  affair  of  days  gone  by.  No  one  could  be  injured 
if  it  were  hushed  up." 

"  You  forget,  my  dear  sir;  that  the  depositions  were  taken 
down  by  me  in  the  presence  of  a  witness." 

"  True  ;  but,  perhaps,  for  a  consideration  that  witness  might 
be  silenced." 

"  But,"  again  interrupted  the  lawyer,  "  if  I  mistake  not, 
Mrs.  Miller,  the  relict  of  the  Reverend  Ebenezer  Miller,  and 
the  rightful  owner  of  the  estate,  is  still  living,  and  has  a  son 
still  living,  and  she — the  widow — is,  I  believe,  in  a  condition  of 
comparative  poverty.  She  would  certainly  obtain  possession 
of  the  property,  if  she  brings  forward  a  suit,  and  also  to  all 
the  proceeds,  rents,  &c.,  for  the  last  ten  years  or  more.  Yes, 
she  would  most  certainly,"  he  added,  in  a  thoughtful  manner. 
"No  doubt  of  it." 

"  What,  then,  would  you,  as  my  legal  adviser  in  this  matter, 
and  one  in  whom  I  place  implicit  confidence,"  said  Mr.  Mor 
dant,  in  a  conciliating  tone  of  voice,  seeing  that  he  was  at  the 
lawyer's  mercy,  "  What  would  you,  my  dear  friend,  advise  me 
to  do?" 

"  Acknowledge  at  once,"  said  the  lawyer,  "  that  you  were 
deceived  by  the  false  representations  of  Mr.  Johnston,  and 
restore  the  property,  rents,  and  accumulations  to  the  widow." 

"  But  are  you  aware,  Mr.  Harvey,  that  the  rents  of  that 
estate,  which,  when  I  purchased  it,  were  worth  only  $300  per 
annum,  now  amount  to  $1,000,  and  have  realised  that  sum  for 
the  last  five  years  ?  Why,  my  dear  sir,  I  should  feel  the  loss 
severely.  All  my  available  capital,  you  know,  as  well  as  I  do, 
is  employed." 

"  There  is  one  way  by  which  the  matter  might  be  settled," 
replied  Mr.  Harvey,  after  having  sat  for  some  moments  appa 
rently  buried  in  thought.  "I  am  aware  how  seriously  the  loss 
of  reputation  would  injure  your  credit  ;  and  I  know  also,  that 
when  people  are  used  to  poverty,  they  are  often  really  happier 
under  the  privations  it  entails,  than  they  would  be  if  rolling  in 
wealth.  I  have  no  doubt  Mrs.  Miller  is  contented  as  she  is, 
and  I  should  be  really  sorry  to  see  you,  one  of  my  wealthiest 
and  most  respectable — let  me  add,  most  respected  clients 
brought  into  trouble.  For  myself,  I  care  nothing.  It  is  my 
duty  to  do  the  best  I  can  for  those  who  employ  me  to  manage 
their  affairs  ;  but  this  witness  V  om  I  took  down  with  me,  not 


158 

suspecting  for  a  moment,  Mr.  Mordant — I  would  wish  you  to 
understand  that — that  anything  of  so  serious  a  nature  was  to 
be  disclosed — this  witness,  I  say,  will  require  to  be  largely  paid 
to  maintain  silence.  But  I  think  I  could  manage  to  seal  his 
tongue  ;  yes,  I  think  I  could  manage  it." 

"  By  what  means  ?  Mention  how,  and  you  will  find  me 
ready  to  meet  your  views,"  saifj  Mr.  Mordant,  much  excited. 

11  It  would  be  rather  expensive,"  continued  the  lawyer  ;  "  I 
could  buy  him  over,  and  pack  him  off  to  Europe  or  to  Califor 
nia,  and  the  probability  is  he  would  never  be  heard  of  again." 

"  And  to  effect  this,  how  much  would  you  require  ?" 

"  Why,  it  is  difficult  to  say.  Perhaps,  for  two  or  three 
thousand  dollars,  the  thing  might  be  done  ;  yes,  I  should  say 
that  I  could  manage  it  for  three  thousand  dollars." 

"  Three  thousand  dollars  !"  exclaimed  the  merchant. 

"  Three  thousand  dollars,  cash,"  interrupted  the  lawyer. 

"It  is  a  very  large  sura,"  continued  Mr.  Mordant,  witn  a 
sigh  ;  but  I  suppose,  if  you  say  so,  I  must  consent  to  pay  it. 
Really,  this  is  a  most  troublesome  affair — a  very  distressing 
affair." 

"  It  is,  indeed,  my  dear  sir,"  said  the  lawyer  ;  "  but  now,  I 
presume,  we  may  consider  it  as  settled.  You  will  draw  me  a 
check  fol*  the  amount." 

And  with  a  sad  heart  and  an  unsteady  hand  the  merchant 
drew  the  check  and  presented  it  to  the  lawyer,  who  rose  to 
take  his  leave,  saying,  as  he  shook  the  merchant  by  the  hand, 
on  leaving  the  study — 

"  I  congratulate  you,  my  dear  sir,  on  the  successful  arrange 
ment  of  this  little  difficulty,  for  it  may  now  be  considered  as 
settled — yes,  you  may  now  rest  assured  that  it  will  be  set 
tled." 

And  he  descended  the  stairs,  and  a  moment  afterwards  Mr. 
Mordant  heard  the  slam  of  the  street  door,  as  the  servant  let 
the  lawyer  out. 

"  A  most  consummate  hypocrite — a  finished  scoundrel,  that 
fellow,"  muttered  the  merchant,  as  he  listened  to  the  retreating 
footsteps  of  the  lawyer.  "  He  has  actually  swindled  me  out  of 
that  money.  Three  thousand  dollars  !  But  I  can't  help  it. 
He  is  too  conversant  with  my  affairs  for  me  to  treat  him  with 
the  contempt  I  otherwise  would.  Well,  it's  of  no  use  lament 
ing  the  loss  of  the  money.  I  must  just  put  up  with  it." 

So  saying,  Mr.  Mordant  descended  to  the  parlor  and  joined 
the  family  circle,  where  he  endeavored  to  banish  from  hi* 


THE  CABIN  BOYS  STORY.  159 

mind  the  recollection  of  the  unpleasant  transactions  in  which 
he  had  been  engaged. 

"  I  have  Mordant  under  my  thumb  now,  at  all  events," 
muttered  Mr.  Harvey,  as,  with  the  check  in  his  pocket,  he 
plodded  his  way  homewards  ;  and,  by  Jove  !  I'll  keep  him 
there — screw  him  down  like  a  vice  ;"  and  he  fairly  spit  out 
the  words.  "  However,  I've  made  three  thousand  dollars  by 
my  day's  work,  and  that  will  do  for  the  present  ;  but  I  don't 
mean  to  destroy  the  copy  of  that  deed,  as  I  promised  I  would. 
Oh,  no;  I  shall  take  good  care  of  that. 

The  lawyer  reached  the  door  of  his  own  house  and  entered 
it.  He  retired  to  rest,  and  dreamed  that  night  of  his  gains — 
and  in  fancy  invested  his  ill-gotten  spoil  in  various  speculations. 
But  were  his  dreams  all  happy  ?  Oh,  no,  no  !  A  guilty  con 
science  weighed  like  a  nightmare  upon  his  breast  as  he  slum 
bered,  and  dreams  of  fortune  could  not  restore  peace  to  the 
mind  from  which  conscience  had  long  since  driven  it  forth. 

On  the  following  morning,  according  to  appointment,  Charles 

Mordant  called  upon  Mr.  Harvey  at  his  office  in  N street, 

for  the  purpose  of  ascertaining  whether  the  lawyer  would  ad 
vance  him  the  money  he  required. 

To  a  certain  extent  Harvey  was  satisfied  with  the  aspect 
matters  wore.  It  was  a  part  of  his  conceived  project  to  entan 
gle  the  young  man  in  his  toils,  and  the  money  was  readily  ad 
vanced,  security  having  been  given  by  Charles  upon  the  pro 
perty  of  his  father,  when  it  should  come  into  his  possession  on 
the  old  gentleman's  death. 

But  Charles,  amidst  all  his  idle  pleasures  and  gayeties,  had  his 
troubles — troubles  which  drove  him  deeper  and  deeper  into  the 
dissipations  of  drink  and  gambling  in  order  to  strive  to  banish 
them.  He  had  once  or  twice  since  the  day  on  which  he  had 
conducted  Mrs.  Miller  to  the  ferry  boat,  called  upon  that  lady ; 
having  been  led  to  do  so  in  order  that  he  might  more  closely 
examine  the  ring  which  had  attracted  his  attention  when  upon 
her  finger.  He  wished  to  ascertain  if  the  letter  he  had  caused 
to  be  engraved  upon  the  inside  of  the  ring  he  had  given  to 
Jeannette  Dixon  was  on  that  worn  by  Mrs.  Miller,  otherwise 
so  similar;  and  at  length,  under  pretence  of  simple  curiosity 
he  begged  her  to  let  him  examine  it.  The  widow  took  it  from 
her  finger  and  presented  it  to  him.  He  eagerly  glanced  at  the 
inside,  and  there  was  the  letter  J  plainly  engraved. 

"  It  is  that  letter,"  said  the  widow,  observing  him  notice  it, 
"  which  satisfies  me  that  it  really  belonged  to  my  poor  unfor- 


160  THE  CABIN  BOY's  STORY. 

tunate  Jane.  I  should  indeed  have  recognized  it  by  the  pecu 
liar  setting  ;  but  that  makes  suspicion  certainty,  in  spite  of 
the  anonymous  letters  I  am  still  receiving,  telling  me  that  my 
poor  dear  child  is  still  living." 

Charles  Mordant  became  pallid  as  a  corpse  as  he  gazed  upon 
the  ring.  The  widow  thought  he  was  touched  with  pity  for 
her  daughter's  fate;  and  her  heart  softened  towards  the  young 
man,  who,  complaining  of  indisposition,  rose  to  take  his  leave. 

"  God  bless  you,  Charles,"  said  Mrs.  Miller,  as  she  shook  his 
hand.  "  I  feel  truly  grateful  to  you  for  the  sympathy  you  feel 
for  my  loss.  The  poor  fellow  cannot  hide  it  from  me,"  she 
added,  as  he  left  the  house.  "  Poor  .Charles,  I  wonder  if  he 
was  attached  to  Jane — the  thought  never  struck  me  before,  yet 
it  might  have  been  so.  Young  men  now-a-days  are  not  apt  to 
exhibit  such  distress  at  the  mere  thought  of  even  such  a  sad 
loss  as  that  of  mine." 

And  Charles,  as  he  returned  to  the  city,  thought  to  himself, 
"  Yes,  poor  Jeannette  has  carried  out  her  threats  of  self  de 
struction.  She  told  me  she  could  not  bear  to  live  any  longer, 
if  she  discovered  that  I  had  deceived  her  by  a  false  marriage. 
God  knows  who  could  have  put  that  fancy  into  her  head  ;  but 
she  must  have  discovered  the  truth.  Indeed,  I  thought  as  much 
that  evening  when  we  were  walking  together  on  the  Elysian 
Fields  at  Hoboken — and  then  that  body  found  so  shortly  after 
wards,  just  on  the  spot,  too,  and  the  ring  upon  the  finger.  This 
Captain  Seymour  might  have  given  a  ring  that  Mrs.  Miller 
thinks  resembles  this  to  her  daughter;  but  it  is  quite  improba 
ble  that  he  would  have  caused  the  letter  J  to  be  engraved  in 
side,  and  in  the  same  style,  too.  No,  no.  God  forgive  me  ! 
I  have  caused  poor  Jeanuette  to  commit  suicide,  and  her  blood 
will  call  to  heaven  for  vengeance  upon  my  head."  And  the 
young  man,  hardened  as  he  was  by  vice  and  dissipation,  shud 
dered  as  he  thought  of  the  dreadful  fate  of  his  trusting  and  be 
trayed  victim. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

A  Shark  Story — The  Mystery  of  the  Recluse  of  the  Island  of  Annabon. 

THE  U.  S.  ship  G came  to  anchor  in  Clarence  Bay, 

Fernando  Po,  after  having  spent  several  weeks  in  cruising 


THE    CABIN    BOY'S    STORY.  161 

along  the  neighboring;  coast,  in  the  vain  endeavor  to  discover 
any  traces  of  slavers.  The  British  brig  of  war  Rapid  was  at 
anchor  in  the  harbor,  as  well  as  two  or  three  merchant  ships, 
the  masters  of  which  had  come  for  the  purpose  .of  trading  for 
fancy  timber,  which  certainty  in  its  live  state  should  have  been 
sufficiently  abundant  on  the  Island,  since  from  one  end  to  the 
other,  and  all  round  to  the  shores  of  the  sea,  it  is  overgrown 
with  dense,  almost  impenetrable  forest,  as  are  most  of  the 
islands  upon  the  African  coast  in  tropical  latitudes  ;  although 
again,  as»is  the  case  in  most  of  these  islands,  a  lofty,  grim, 
sombre-looking  mountain  rose  in  the  interior,  amidst  the  crags 
and  precipices  of  which  probably  no  human  foot  had  ever  trod 
den — since  it  is  generally  supposed  that  the  interior  of  the 
island,  which  is  of  considerable  extent,  is  uninhabited. 

There  was  little  to  occupy  the  men  on  board  the  G , 

and  therefore  the  crew  enjoyed  liberty  on  shore  by  turns  dur 
ing  their  stay  ;  and  the  officers  of  the  G interchanged 

visits  with  those  of  the  Rapid,  and  accompanied  each  other  in 
boating,  fishing,  and  shooting  excursions.  Roads  there  were 
none,  and  but  a  small  settlement  on  this  portion  of  the  coast — 
another,  still  smaller  settlement,  being  formed  upon  the  opposite 
shore  ;  both  settlements  being  peopled  with  a  few  dozen  whites, 
consisting  of  Englishmen  and  Spaniards — but  no  women — and 
the  remainder  of  the  inhabitants  consisting  of  coolies  and  the 
rude  natives  of  the  island,  who  had  been  tempted  to  take  up 
their  abode  near  the  European  intruders,  in  the  hope  of  gain. 
The  island  was  but  scantily  populated  with  natives,  who  bore 
a  ferocious  character,  having,  it  is  said,  once  or  twice  risen  and 
massacred  the  early  Spanish  settlers.  Be  this  as  it  may,  at 
this  time  they  appeared  to  be  the  very  reverse  of  ferocious,  and 
were  glad  to  be  taken  notice  of  by  the  sailors,  and  willingly 
brought  off  pine  apples  and  other  tropical  fruits  to  the  ships, 
in  their  rude,  fragile  canoes — which  they  exchanged  for  to 
bacco  and  half-worn  articles  of  clothing ;  and  the  impression 
generally  prevailed  that  the  ferocity  formerly  imputed  to  their 
charge  was  occasioned  by  the  cruelties  of  the  Spaniards,  who,  it 
was  said,  hunted  them  down  with  bloodhounds,  for  the  purpose 
of  forcing  them  into  slavery — a  condition  to  which  the  simple 
natives  had  a  most  insuperable  objection. 

The  natives  of  Fernando  Po  are  a  fine,  athletic  race  of 
savages — possessing,  it  is  true,  both  the  negro  frizzled  hair  and 
the  negro  cast  of  countenance  ;  but  being  in  general  finely 
modelled,  and  free  and  independent  in  their  carriage.  Their 


162 

color  is  probably  black,  like  their  brethern  on  the  coast  and  in 
the  neighboring  islands,  but  their  faces  and  their  bodies,  hair 
and  all,  from  head  to  foot,  are  painted  with  a  mixture  of  yellow 
palm  oil  and  fed  ochre,  giving  them  a  red  salmon  color,  and  a 
most  unique  and  singular  appearance  ;  inasmuch  as  when  they 
are  seen  walking  on  the  shore,  the  rays  of  the  sun  shining  upon 
them,  they  look  like  so  many  animated  bronze  statues.  The 
climate  is  said  to  be  unhealthy — indeed,  most  fatal  to  European 
constitutions,  but  at  certain  seasons  of  the  year,  for  several 
weeks  together,  the  malaria,  which  conduces  to  this  insalubrity, 
seems  to  disappear,  and  at  these  times,  the  temperature,  though 
sultry,  is  delightful  and  refreshing,  in  consequence  of  the  cool 
breezes  which  blow  inland,  and  temper  the  heat  which  would 
otherwise  be  insupportable. 

One  day  young  Miller  and  Lieutenant  Ross,  accompanied  by 
one  of  the  officers  of  the  Rapid,  took  a  fancy  into  their  heads 
to  start  off  at  an  early  hour  in  the  morning,  and  penetrate  as 
far  into  the  forest  as  possible,  in  hopes  of  reaching  one  of  the 
native  villages.  Consequently,  supplying  themselves  with  a  few 
gaudily  colored  handkerchiefs,  glass  beads,  common  clasp 
knives,  and  a  store  of  tobacco  in  the  leaf,  to  give  to  the  natives 
they  might  chance  to  meet,  as  propitiatory  offerings,  and  arm 
ing  themselves  with  pistols,  in  case  of  any  difficulty  arising — • 
although  they  took  care  to  conceal  their  weapons,  so  as  not  to 
alarm  the  natives  they  might  fall  in  with — they  started  shortly 
after  sunrise,  and  entered  the  forest  of  brushwood  and  canes  in 
the  rear  of  the  settlement,  and  were  soon  completely  enclosed 
by  forest  trees  of  immense  size,  and  by  parasite  shrubs,  and 
compelled  to  push  on  in  single  file  over  a  trodden  path,  which 
seemed  to  have  been  traced  by  the  natives  by  their  frequent 
visits  to  the  settlement.  For  a  long  time  they  pushed  on,  tak 
ing  care  not  to  lose  the  forest  path,  lest  they  might  miss  their 
way  altogether,  without  meeting  with  any  living  thing,  save 
the  parrots  and  other  tropical  birds  which  flew  above  their 
heads,  or  the  monkeys  and  squirrels  that  skipped  to  and  fro 
from  branch  to  branch  amongst  the  trees.  At  length,  after 
having  penetrated,  as  well  as  they  could  estimate,  for  three  or 
four  miles  into  the  solitude  of  the  forest,  for  their  progress  was 
necessarily  slow,  as  they  had  to  make  their  way  oftentimes 
through  tangled  brushwood  and  over  fields  of  prickly  cactuses, 
j»nd  occasionally  diverging  from  the  trodden  path  to  examine 
more  minutely  some  gigantic  specimen  of  forest  growth,  or  some 
singular  shrub  or  flower  ;  and  they  then  had  to  find  their  way 


163 

back  carefully  to  the  beaten  track — they  reached  a  stream,  the 
approach  to  which  was  heralded  by  the  grateful  sound  of  fall 
ing  water.  Soon  they  came  upon  a  small  lake,  so  small  and 
trim  and  neat  in  appearance,  that  a  very  little  stretch  of  imagi 
nation  might  have  led  them  to  suppose  it  an  artificial  lake  in 
the  midst  of  a  gentleman's  pleasure  grounds.  The  water  looked 
so  cool,  so  pure,  so  sparkling  to  the  weary  travellers,  that  they 
resolved  to  make  this  their  temporary  halting  place,  and  to  sit 
down  by  its  banks  and  lunch  upon  the  biscuits  they  had  brought 
with  them,  and  to  dilute  the  small  bottle  of  Jamaica  that  the 
English  officer  had  thoughtfully  provided,  with  some  of  the 
cool  water  of  the  lake.  However,  as  they  advanced,  they  saw 
that  a  party  of  natives  were  sitting  on  the  bank  not  more  than 
thirty  yards  in  advance  of  them.  They  had  come  upon  them 
nnperceived,  having  until  then  been  concealed  by  the  trees  and 
thj  undergrowth.  A  brief  council  was  held,  and  it  was  re 
solved  to  endeavor  to  make  their  acquaintance,  more  especially 
as  they  presented  no  very  formidable  appearance,  the  party 
consisting  of  only  one  man  and  two  women.  As  they  ventured 
near,  the  natives  seemed  at  first  to  be  alarmed,  and  to  be  think 
ing  of  flight  ;  but  the  officers  made  signs  of  amity,  and  they 
remained  where  they  were,  and  allowed  them  to  approach,  only 
taking;  the  precaution  of  rising  to  their  feet.  It  was  soon  seen 
that  the  man  was  bound  on  a  fishing  excursion  on  the  coast, 
and  had  brought  the  women  with  him — his  two  wives,  doubt 
less — for  the  purpose  of  assisting  him  in  his  task,  and  carrying 
his  fishing  gear,  consisting  of  a  light  wicker-work  canoe,  borne 
by  the  women,  and  containing  spears  and  baskets  of  baits,  and 
lines  of  bark  with  hard  wood  hooks,  and  such  like  rude  mate 
rials.  Since  neither  the  man  nor  the  women  could  speak  a 
word  of  English,  or  even  of  Spanish,  it  was  impossible  to  hold 
conversation  with  them  ;  but  the  man  courteously  endeavored 
to  explain  the  use  of  the  spears  and  the  other  articles  in  the 
canoe,  while  the  women  stood  by  and  laughed  immoderately, 
as  the  officers  presumed,  at  the  singularity  of  their  appearance, 
hampered  with  the  clothing,  which  the  simple  natives  scorned — 
both  the  man  and  the  women  being  entirely  naked,  without 
even  any  attempt  at  ornament,  as  common  amongst  savages  as  it 
is  amongst  civilized  beings,  unless  the  frightful  scars  cut  into 
their  flesh,  by  way  of  tattoo,  which,  covering  them  from  the 
shoulders  upwards,  could  be  intended  for  ornament  or  for  marks 
of  distinction  ;  yet  intended  for  one  or  the  other,  undoubt 
edly  they  were.  A  present  of  tobacco  to  the  man  and  of  some 


164 

glass  beads  to  the  women,  made  friends  of  them  in  a  moment, 
and  they  partook  of  the  biscuits  the  officers  had  brought,  and 
furnished  them  in  return  with  a  deliciously  cool  draught  of  palm 
wine,  or  the  inspissated  juice  of  the  palm  tree,  which  is  pro 
duced  in  great  abundance  in  these  islands,  and  furnishes  the 
favorite  beverage  of  the  natives. 

After  a  little  time  the  parties  separated,  the  officers  having 
resolved  to  reach  a  village  which  they  understood  by  signs 
from  the  man  was  only  a  short  distance  before  them,  and  the 
natives  going  their  way  towards  the  coast,  the  man  walking 
first,  a  free  and  independent  lord  of  the  creation,  and  the  wo 
men  tottering  along  behind  him,  laden  with  the  canoe  and  the 
fishing  implements. 

Soon  the  sound  of  voices,  shouting  from  the  tops  of  the  tall, 
straight  palm  trees,  notified  the  party  of  their  approach  to 
wards  the  village,  and  as  they  approached  nearer,  numerous 
bronze-like  figures  were  seen  far  above  the  heads  of  the  officers, 
supported  at  the  very  tops  of  the  trees  by  strong  hoops  of 
bark  which  passed  around  their  bodies  and  the  trees  likewise, 
their  knees  pressing  against  the  bark,  and  their  backs  against 
the  hoop,  thus  holding  themselves  securely  aloft,  having  reached 
their  position  by  gradually  wriggling  the  hoop  in  an  upward 
direction  ;  a  wide  clearing  was  now  before  the  party,  in  which 
some  hundreds  of  the  natives  were  basking  in  the  sun.  A  shout 
announced  their  approach,  and  the  women  fled  to  the  covert  of 
the  forest  trees  surrounding  the  clearing,  and  the  officers  found 
themselves  in  the  midst  of  the  male  inhabitants  of  the  village. 
Their  sudden  appearance  seemed  to  create  no  alarm  ;  the  na 
tives  thronged  around  them  good-humoredly,  and  offered  them 
palm  wine  to  drink,  and  various  fruits  to  refresh  themselves 
with  ;  but,  although  disposed  to  friendship  and  communicative 
ness,  unfortunately  none  of  them  could  speak  a  word  of  any 
language  intelligible  to  their  visitors.  At  last  an  old  man  was 
led  forward  supporting  himself  by  a  crutch,  who,  from  the 
reverence  with  which  he  was  treated  by  the  assemblage,  was 
evidently  either  a  chief  of  note  or  a  sorcerer.  He  was  colored 
with  the  customary  red  ochre,  and  frightfully  gashed  by  the 
horrible  tattoo  process  ;  nevertheless  there  was  an  appearance 
of  mildness  in  his  features,  and  his  great  age,  for  he  was  a  very 
old  man,  inspired  confidence  and  respect.  He  was  led  to 
Lieutenant  Ross. 

"How    do,"    "Thank   you,"    "  Good-bye,"    "God    dam," 
"  Tambicn,"  "very  well,"  "  Sucre  Tonnerc"  "  muchas  gracias," 


165 

poured  forth  from  his  lips  with  wonderful  rapidity,  testified  to 
his  abilities  as  a  linguist,  and  notwithstanding  the  strange 
mixture  of  phrases,  and  the  equivocal  character  of  some  of 
them,  testified  also,  as  the  officers  supposed,  to  his  amiable 
desire  to  extend  to  them  a  cordial  welcome. 

"  How  do — Very  well,  thank  you,"  replied  the  lieutenant, 
grasping  the  extended  hand  of  the  aged  chief.  "Care  tobacco 
F?  muchas  buono — oh,  very  good  !"  at  the  same  time  tendering 
him  a  "  hand"  of  leaf  tobacco,  which  he  received  with  every 
evidence  of  extreme  satisfaction  ;  but  unfortunately  this  was 
the  extent  of  the  conversation  that  could  be  carried  on — since 
the  vocabulary  of  the  chief  extended  no  further  than  to  the 
expression  of  the  sentences  he  had  already  rehearsed.  How 
ever,  plenty  of  palm  wine  was  drank,  and  limes,  and  guavas, 
and  cocoa  nuts  presented,  as  tokens  of  hospitality,  and  after 
resting  some  time,  the  party  bethought  themselves  of  return 
ing  to  their  vessel.  They  made  signs  to  be  introduced  to  the 
women,  who,  timid  as  they  were,  were  instinct  with  the  natural 
curiosity  of  the  daughters  of  Eve — and  could  be  discovered 
peeping  cautiously  out  from  behind  the  trees,  but  this  introduc 
tion  could  not  be  effected,  and  the  salmon-colored  beauties  re 
mained  ensconced  in  their  hiding  place. 

One  singularity  they  noted,  viz.,  that  there  appeared  to  be 
no  huts — the  sleeping  places  of  the  villagers  seeming  to  be 
the  wicker  work  canoes,  in  which  they  pursued  their  avocation 
of  fishing,  which  were  here  and  there  slung  like  hammocks  be 
tween  the  trees. 

As  they  were  about  to  leave,  a  youth  came  forward  with  a 
large  basket  of  limes  and  plantains,  and  various  peppers  for 
pickling,  which  he  offered  for  sale  to  young  Miller.  It  was 
impossible  to  carry  them  to  the  ship  then,  but  the  young  mid 
shipman  made  signs  to  the  lad  that  if  he  would  bring  them  to 
the  ship  himself  on  the  morrow,  he  would  give  him  half  a  dollar, 
and  a  lot  of  tobacco  for  them.  With  this  bargain  the  lad  ap 
peared  satisfied,  and  the  officers  went  their  way,  arriving  on 
board  the  ship  in  the  evening  —rather  fatigued,  yet  still  pleased 
with  their  day's  adventure. 

On  the  following  morning,  probably  encouraged  by  the  visit  of 
the  preceding  day,  not  only  was  the  lad  already  mentioned  along 
side  of  the  ship  in  his  canoe  with  the  limes  and  plantains,  but  a 
score  of  canoes  filled  with  natives  accompanied  him,  all  anxious 
to  dispose  of  similar  stores — and  they  found  a  ready  market. 

Captain  P was  anxious   to  take  some  more  ballast  on 


166  THE    CABIN    BOY'S    STORY. 

board,  as  the  consumption  of  provisions  and  water  had  consid 
erably  lightened  the  ship,  and  some  stones  that  lay  on  a  reef  at 
a  distance  offered  the  best  ballast  he  could  procure.  He 
thought  this  a  good  opportunity  to  obtain  it  without  exposing 
his  crew  to  the  arduous  and  dangerous  task  of  getting  it  on 
board,  exposed  to  the  rays  of  the  sun  while  immersed  to  the 
waist  in  water.  A  bargain  was  struck  with  the  natives,  who 
eagerly  accepted  it,  to  fill  their  canoes  with  ballast  from  the 
reef  and  bring  it  to  the  ship,  they  leaving  their  vegetables  and 
fruits  on  board,  to  receive  payment  for  them  when  the  job  was 
completed. 

Away  they  went  to  work,  and  in  a  short  time  several  canoe 
loads  were  brought  on  board.  Several  accidents,  such  as  the 
upsetting  of  canoes  that  were  loaded,  had  occurred,  but  they 
seemed  only  to  be  a  source  of  merriment  to  the  negroes,  who 
immediately  righted  their  fragile  craft,  and  getting  on  board 
again,  proceeded  to  refill  them,  while  the  crew  enjoyed  the 
scene  from  the  decks  of  the  Gr — - — . 

At  length  a  more  than  usual  commotion  seemed  to  take 
place,  in  consequence  of  the  upsetting  of  a  canoe,  and  the 
voices  of  the  negroes  were  heard,  in  wail  and  lamentation, 
borne  across  the  water.  The  canoes  were,  perhaps,  half  a 
mile  distant  from  the  ship,  and  nothing  could  be  seen  with  the 
naked  eye  as  to  the  cause  of  the  unusual  disturbance.  Spy 
glasses  were,  however,  put  in  requisition,  and  the  fins  of  several 
sharks  were  seen  above  the  water,  which  had  been  attracted  to 
the  spot,  probably,  by  the  scent  of  the  naked  bodies  of  the  ne 
groes,  as  they  swam  around  the  canoes. 

"  I  fear  some  accident  has  happened,"  said  a  lieutenant  to 

Captain  P ;  "the  negroes  seem  to  be  in  a  great  fluster 

about  something." 

"  Oh,  it's  nothing  of  any  consequence,  depend  upon  it,"  was 
the  reply  of  the  captain.  "  Those  fellows  are  like  fish  in  the 
water;  they  are  merely  amusing  themselves  ;  but  I  wish  they 
would  hasten  aboard  and  let  us  complete  our  ballast." 

"  By  heaven!  there  are  sharks  all  around  them  !"  exclaimed 
the  lieutenant  again  ;  "  see,  doctor,"  handing  his  glass  to  the 
ship's  surgeon. 

"  Sharks,  pooh  !  nonsense,"  replied  the  doctor  ;  "  there  are 
only  ground  sharks  hereabouts,  and  they  seldom  or  never  at 
tack  human  beings  in  the  water."  However,  he  took  the  glass 
and  peered  through  it,  and  then  added,  "  Upon  my  word,  I  am 
afraid  something  is  the  matter." 


167 

"  I  have  heard,"  said  the  captain,  "  that  these  ground  sharks, 
though,  in  general,  lazy,  lubberly  brutes,  are  more  savage  than 
any  other  species,  when  awakened  from  their  semi-torpor.  They 
must  have  been  aroused  by  the  noise  and  clamor  of  the  ne 
groes,  and  very  likely  some  of  the  poor  devils  have  fallen  vic 
tims  to  their  ferocity.  Mr.  Ross,  let  a  boat  be  lowered,  sir, 
and  take  half  a  dozen  hands,  and  go  and  see  what  is  the 
matter." 

The  boat  was  lowered  with  the  promptitude  always  observa 
ble  on  board  a  man-of-war,  and  the  lieutenant  and  crew  put  off 
to  the  scene  of  distress — for  that  there  really  was  distress,  was 
now  plainly  apparent;  for,  ringing  clamorously  over  the  water, 
louder  and  louder,  was  heard  the  wail  of  the  negroes,  arid  the 
cry  seemed  to  be  heard  on  shore,  and  understood  and  responded 
to,  for  groups  of  negroes  gathered  on  the  hill-sides,  and  joiued 
their  wail  to  that  of  their  comrades. 

Soon  a  large  double  banked  canoe  was  seen  to  quit  the 
beach,  propelled  by  upwards  of  twenty  paddles,  seeming  to  ily 
over  the  water  with  the  swiftness  of  a  bird,  rather  than  to  cut 
its  way  through  it;  rapidly  it  flew  past  the  man-of-war's  boat, 
and  in  an  inconceivably  short  space  of  time  was  at  the  scene  of 
disaster  ;  and  ere  the  lieutenant  reached  the  spot,  the  canoe 
was  on  its  return,  followed  by  all  the  rest — the  wail  of  dis 
tress  rising  louder  and  louder  as  they  neared  the  ship.  Soon 
they  were  alongside — the  larger  canoe  coming  alongside 
under  the  ship's  counter,  beneath  the  quarter-deck,  on  which 
the  officers  were  grouped  under  the  awning. 

A  piece  of  torn  sail  was  extended  over  the  stern-sheets 
of  the  canoe,  which  was  raised  when  it  came  alongside;  and 
as  the  negroes  in  the  larger  canoe  raised  it,  the  wail  and 
lamentation  burst  forth  louder  than  ever,  and  was  again  re 
sponded  to  from  the  shore. 

"  Oh,  my  God  !"  exclaimed  the  surgeon,  who  happened  at 
that  moment  to  be  looking  over  the  side  ;  and  he  placed  his 
hands  before  his  face  and  shuddered. 

"What  is  the  matter,  Doctor?"  inquired  young  Miller, 
who  was  standing  near  him. 

"  Look  and  see  for  yourself,"  replied  the  surgeon,  taking 
the  youth  by  the  arm  and  leading  him  to  the  bulwarks.  "  It 
is  horrible — horrible  !" 

Tiie  young  midshipman  went  to  the  side  and  looked  over. 
It  was  a  horrible  sight,  indeed,  that  met  his  gaze  and  that  of 
a  hundred  others,  who  by  this  time  understood  that  the  larger 


168 

canoe  was  the  object  of  attention,  and  who,  perhaps,  partially 
guessed  the  cause,  for  extended  in  the  bottom  of  the  canoe, 
were  the  lifeless  remains  of  the  youth  who  had  sold  young  Mil 
ler  the  basket  of  limes  in  the  morning.  One  of  the  legs  had 
been  severed  at  the  hip,  as  if  chopped  off  with  a  hatchet.  One 
of  the  arms  had  been  taken  off,  in  like  manner,  a  short  distance 
above  the  elbow,  and  the  entrails  had  been  torn  out  entirely,  so 
that  the  interior  of  the  body  lay  exposed  like  that  of  a  sheep  at 
the  butcher's  shambles.  Tfie  remaining  portions  of  the  flesh 
were  torn  with  the  sharp  teeth  of  the  sharks,  the  head  alone 
was  untouched,  and  thus  from  the  features  still  in  death,  was 
the  body  recognized.  Soon  the  larger  canoe,  followed  by  the 
rest,  went  on  shore,  and  loud  throughout  the  night  rose  the 
wail  of  the  native  watchers,  and  in  the  morning  the  body  was 
buried,  attended  by  thousands  of  natives  and  numerous  officers 
who  were  actuated  by  curiosity  and  a  wish  to  testify  their  sym 
pathy  in  the  sorrowful  demonstrations  of  the  negroes.  All  the 
bits  of  crape  and  black  cloth  that  were  available  were  begged 
by  the  natives,  and  worn  around  their  arms  in  imitation  of  the 
officers,  whom  at  different  periods  they  had  seen  following  the 
body  of  some  messmate,  who  had  fallen  a  victim  to  the  diseases 
of  the  climate  ;  and  for  two  or  three  days  the  funeral  cere 
monies  were  continued — watch  fires  being  kept  burning  during 
the  night — and  the  lamentations  of  the  women  resounding 
across  the  water,  and  echoed  by  the  hills.  Simple  as  was  the 
funeral — rude  as  were  the  notions  of  the  poor,  ignorant  crea 
tures,  it  was  a  solemn  scene,  and  calculated  to  make  an  impres 
sion  on  the  most  careless  beholder.  At  all  events  it  was 
sufficient  proof,  that,  savage  as  might  be  the  nature  of  the 
untutored  negroes,  they  were  earnest  and  unfailing  in  their 
respect  for  the  memory  of  the  dead. 

After  this  shocking  catastrophe  there  was  no  more  loading 
of  ballast,  and  in  the  course  of  a  few  days  the  G pre 
pared  for  sea  ;  the  Rapid  still  remained  behind  ;  but  the  cap 
tain  came  on  board  the  G to  see  his  friends  off. 

"  I  wonder,"  said  Captain  P ,  while  standing  by  the  side 

of  the  English  captain,  watching  the  receding  shore  as  the 
vessel  sailed  out  of  the  bay,  "  I  wonder  if  it  would  be  of  any 
use  taking  another  cruise  along  the  coast  just  now  ;  perhaps  I 
might  meet  with  better  luck  than  I  met  with  before  ?" 

"  I  rather  think  not,"  replied  the  English  captain.  .  "  The 
Rapid,  in  company  with  the  Firefly,  has  been  cruising  up  and 
down  from  Loango  to  Capo  Const  Castle,  for  some  months,  in 


THE    CABIN    BOY'S    STORY.  169 

search  of  two  noted  slavers — one  the  Albatross.  I  don't  know 
her  captain's  name,  but  report  says  he  is  a  terrible  fellow  ;  the 
other,  the  Dolphin,  commanded  by  a  renegade  Frenchman 
named  Junot,  one  of  the  most  unmitigated  scoundrels  that  ever 
breathed,  and  I  much  fear — indeed,  I  feel  certain  that  both 
have  escaped.  We  captured  the  Dolphin  off  the  coast,  crammed 
full  of  slaves — that  is  to  say,  the  fellow  entreated  us  to  cease 
firing,  lowered  his  flag,  and  allowed  me  to  send  a  master's  mate 
on  board  as  prize  master.  The  captain  was,  of  course,  put  in 
irons,  but  my  brig  was  short-handed— I  have  lost  so  many  of 
my  best  men  since  I  have  been  on  this  infernal  coast — and  the 
crew  were  wanted  to  work  the  prize.  We  thought  there  was 
no  danger,  especially  as  there  were  two  of  us,  of  her  escape — 
but  the  Firefly  set  sail  in  chase  of  the  other  fellow,  and  sud 
denly  two  or  three  guns  were  fired  right  into  my  rigging,  dis 
abling  me  so  much,  and  so  wholly  unexpected  was  the  fire,  too, , 
that  I  was  unable  for  the  moment  to  reply  to  it,  and  the 
confounded  brig  shot  ahead  and  was  clear  off  in  no  time.  I 
fired  after  her,  for  pursuit  in  my  crippled  condition  was  useless  ; 
but  the  shot  fell  short.  So,  as  I  have  said,  I  lost  one  of  the 
best  prizes  I  ever  captured.  I  would  have  given  six  months 
pay  to  have  got  hold  of  that  devil  incarnate,  Junot." 

"It  was  too  bad,"  said  Captain  P ,  "yet  the  fellow 

must  be  a  clever  scoundrel." 

"  Clever  ;  but  an  arrant  coward,  so  report  says." 

"And  you  never  saw  her  again  ?" 

"Saw  her  again!  Faith,  no.  She  is  lying  at  anchor  in 
Cuba,  by  this  time,  I  presume.  The  worst  part  of  the  affair 
was,  she  went  off  with  my  master's  mate  and  six  of  my  best 
seamen  on  board;  poor  fellows — I  wonder  what  their  fate  has 
been  ?" 

"  I  should  hardly  think  the  fellow  would  dare  to  harm  them," 

answered  Captain  P ,  "  most  likely  he  would  treat  them 

well,  and  put  them  on  shore  somewhere." 

"  I  hope  so  !  but  I  have  my  misgivings,"  replied  the  Eng 
lishman. 

"  And  the  Firefly  ;  did  she  succeed  in  the  chase  ?" 

"  No,  she  Came  back  about  three  days  afterwards — the  Al 
batross  that  she  was  in  chase  Of,  sails  like  a  witch  ;  and 
besides,  they  '  hove  to '  to  pick  up  a  poor  negress  whom  I  sup 
pose  the  captain  tossed  overboard,  on  purpose  to  try  if  the 
humanity  of  the  captain  of  the  Firefly  was  greater  than  his  de 
sire  to  secure  a  prize." 

8 


170  THE  CABIN  COY'S  STORY . 

"  And  where  is  the  Firefly  now  ?" 

"  She  is  gone  to  Sierra  Leone  to  repair,  and  I  suppose  the 
rescued  uegress  will  be  sent  to  Liberia." 

"Then  you  think  it  would  be  useless  cruising  just  now  along 
the  coast.  I  must  say  it  is  tedious  work — unless  something  is 
to  be  gained  by  it." 

"  I  should  say  it  was.  Let  the  fellows  have  a  few  months 
respite,  and  then  pounce  down  upon  them  unawares.  I  think 
that  would  be  the  best  plan  ;  for  my  part,  I  have  set  my  heart 
on  capturing  this  devil  Junot  ;  and,  although  I  am  entitled  to 
return  home,  I  exchanged  with  the  officer  that  came  to  take 
my  place,  with  the  express  intention  of  remaining  a  few  months 
longer,  in  the  hope  of  success." 

"  In  that  case,"  sard  Captain  P ,  "  I  shall  follow  up  my 

intention  of  visiting  the  islands.  I  shall  go  to  St.  Thomas  and 
thence  to  Annabon." 

"  Oh,  by  the  bye,  speaking  of  Annabon,"  said  the  English 
captain,  "  that  puts  me  in  mind  of  a  little  bit  of  romance  con 
nected  with  that  island.  My  dear  fellow,  you  can't  do  better 
than  pay  a  visit  to  the  White  Lady  of  Anuabon." 

"The  White  Lady  of  Annabon!"  exclaimed  Captain  P . 

"  Who  the  d— 1  is  she— a  ghost  or  a  fairy?" 

"  Neither  the  one  nor  the  other,  though  beautiful  and  al 
most  ethereal  enough  to  be  the  latter." 

"  Who  is  she,  then  ?" 

"  That  nobody  knows.  She  was  only  discovered  by  the  cap 
tain  of  one  of  our  cruisers  a  few  weeks  since,  and  I  have  not 
seen  her  yet.  I  describe  her  from  his  description.  When  I 
say  discovered,  I  mean  that  until  of  late  it  was  unknown  that 
such  a  being  was  upon  the  island,  although  it  appeal's,  from 
Captain  Hall's  account,  that  she  must  have  been  residing  there 
for  years,  and  she  has  quite  a  splendid  establishment." 

"  Have  you  no  idea,  then,  who  she  is  ?" 

"  Not  the  least  in  the  world;  although  some  of  these  days  I 
mean  to  pay  her  a  visit,  and  to  endeavor  to  find  her  out.  I 
can  only  surmise  that  she  is  the  wife,  or  mistress,  or  daughter 
of  some  pirate  or  slave  dealer,  who  has  managed  to  keep  his 
treasure  there  in  seclusion  fqr  years.  It  may  be  so — it  may  be 
not.  At  any  rate,  it  is  quite  in  the  style  of  the  corsair  and 
Medora,  or  Juan  and  Haidee,  isir  t  it  ?  It?s  enough  to  pique  a 
fellow's  curiosity." 

"  It  has  raised  mine  to  the  highest  pitch,  I  can  assure  you/' 
said  Captain  P ,  "  and  I  shall  certainly  follow  your  advice, 


THE  CABIN  BOY'S  STORY.  171 

and  pay  the  lady  a  visit — but  it  isn't  all  a  hoax  of  Captain 
Hall's,  as  you  call  him  ?" 

"  Oh,  no;  I  know  Hall  too  well  to  fear  that.  That  there  is 
some  enchanting  embodiment  of  female  loveliness  on  the  island 
of  Annabon,  I  have  no  doubt.  How  she  got  there,  or  who 
she  is,  are  different  matters." 

The  G by  this  time  had  stretched  far  from  the  land, 

and  shaking  Captain  P by  the  hand,  and  bidding  farewell 

to  the  officers,  the  captain  of  the  Rapid  returned  to  the  har 
bor,  while  the  G held  on  her  course  towards  St.  Thomas. 

In  the  course  of  a  week  she  reached  that  island,  but  did  not 
long  remain  there,  as  the  captain,  excited  by  what  he  had 
heard  from  Captain  Trainer,  of  the  English  brig,  was  anxious 
to  reach  Annabon. 

He  still  had  the  young  woman  Charlotte  Herbert  on  board, 
whom,  the  reader  will  recollect,  he  had  picked  up  at  sea,  after 
the  burning  of  the  Laurel.  It  had  been  his  intention  to  carry 
her  to  Sierra  Leone,  as  the  most  desirable  place  to  set  her  on 
shore.  Now  a  new  idea  came  into  his  head.  If  it  really 
turned  out  that  a  young  white  female  was  residing  on  Anna 
bon,  he  would  leave  the  young  girl  temporarily  witli  her,  for  he 
was  well  aware  a  ship  of  war  was  no  place  for  her  to  remain  on 
board  of. 

In  due  time  the  G reached  Annabon,  and,  to  the  cap 
tain's  surprise — although  he  now  began  to  believe  the  story  a 
hoax — no  such  person  was  known  in  the  settlement,  off  which 
ships  usually  anchored  ;  but,  by  dint  of  earnest  inquiry,  he 
learnt  from  some  negroes  that  it  was  said  there  was  such  a 
being  resident  on  the  southern  coast,  in  a  secluded  bay. 

Rendered  more  curious  than  ever,  the  captain  resolved  to 
cruise  round  the  island  as  close  to  the  shore  as  possible,  and 
one  morning  his  cufiosity  was  gratified  by  the  sight  of  a  cot 
tage  different  entirely  from  those  usual  on  the  coast,  and  quite 
concealed  amongst  the  trees. 

The  ship  was  brought  to  anchor  in  the  offing — the  bay  was 

only  navigable  for  small  boats:  and  Captain  P resolved  to 

send  Charlotte  Herbert  on  shore,  with  one  of  his  officers,  as  an 
avant  courrier.  "  Here,  Mr.  Miller,"  he  said,  after  the  sails  had 
been  furled  and  the  boat  lowered,  and  he  had  given  notice  to 
Charlotte  Herbert  of  his  intentions,  "  you  are  a  smart  looking 
fellow,  and,  I  should  judge,  ought  to  make  a  good  squire  of 
dames.  Don  your  best  uniform,  sir,  and  accompany  Miss  Her 
bert  ashore  to  this  fairy  lady's  abode,  and  see  that  you  bring 


172  THE    CABIN 

back  a  good  account  of  yourself.     Give  the  lady  my  compli 
ments,  and  say  that  Captain  P ,  of  the  U.  S.  ship  G , 

will  shortly  do  himself  the  honor  of  waiting  upon  her  ladyship." 
The  youth  would  not  have  desired  any  pleasanter  errand. 
He  was  ready  and  on  board  the  boat  in  a  few  minutes.  The 
boat  put  off  from  the  ship's  side,  and  five  minutes'  pull  carried 
her  into  the  creek,  which  was  the  only  visible  landing  place. 
The  captain  watched  them  from  the  ship  with  his  spyglass,  and 
saw  the  young  midshipman  and  Miss  Herbert  enter  the  glade, 
where  the  foliage  of  trees  and  shrubs  concealed  them  from  his 
view. 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

A  Surprise  and  somewhat  of  a  Mystery  arising  out  of  the  Visit  to  the 
White  Lady  of  Annabon,  and  still  more  Mystery  arising  out  of  the 
Interview. 

FOR  years  it  had  remained  unsuspected  that  the  lonely  island 
of  Annabon  contained  so  lovely  a  specimen  of  budding  woman 
hood  as  the  fair  Greek  bride  of  the  slaver  captain,  and  but  for 
the  indiscretion  of  the  young  girl,  or  rather  but  for  the  anxious 
hope  that  had  led  her  without  reflection  to  signalize  a  British 
cruiser,  thinking  it  was  the  Albatross,  as  many  more  years 
might  have  passed  away  without  Captain  Seymour's  secret 
having  been  discovered.  One  morning,  about  a  month  before 
the  G •  had  entered  Clarence  Bay,  Fernando  Po,  the  Brit 
ish  crusier  Alacrity,  Captain  Hall,  sighted  the  Island  of  An 
nabon,  while  pursuing  her  course  from  Ascension  to  the  mouth 
of  the  river  Gaboon"  in  Biaffra.  Curiosity  probably  tempted 
the  captain  to  hug  the  land  closely,  and  as  he,  in  company  with 
the  lieutenant  of  the  watch,  was  gazing  upon  the  shore  through 
his  spy-glass,  and  expatiating  upon  the  beauties  of  the  scenery 
as  creek  after  creek  opened  to  their  view  as  they  rounded  the 
various  points,  disclosing  a  panorama  of  the  most  enchanting 
and  inviting  landscape  scenery,  the  attention  of  both  gentlemen 
was  attracted  by  the  appearance  of  what  seemed  to  be  a  white 
flag  flying  from  a  pole  on  the  summit  of  a  hillock  whence  was 
a  clear  vista  between  the  forest  trees,  from  the  hill  to  the  sea, 
forming  either  an  artificial  glade  of  wondrous  beauty,  or  else 
being  one  of  those  natural  clearances  often  found  in  these 


THE  CABIN  BOY'S  STORY.  173 

generally  thickly  wooded  islands,  to  imitate  which,  would  put 
to  the  test  the  skill  of  the  most  artistic  landscape  gardener. 

"  Bless  me  1"  said  the  captain,  lowering  his  glass  for  a  mo 
ment,  and  turning  to  the  officer,  "  that  is  surely  a  white  flag 
flying  from  the  summit  of  yonder  eminence  ;  there,  between 
those  forest  trees  in  the  opening,"  pointing  with  his  finger  in 
the  direction.  "  Do  you  see  it  ?" 

"  I  have  observed  it  for  some  minutes  ;  I  thought  I  saw  it 
hoisted  as  soon  as  we  rounded  the  point  there,"  replied  the 
lieutenant  ;  "  but  as  I  could  not  conceive  what  it  could  be  at 
first,  I  did  not  speak — I  wished  to  be  certain  that  it  was  really 
a  flag.  It  is  evidently  some  signal  flying.  What  can  it  mean  ?" 

"  I'm  sure  I  can't  say  ;  a  white  flag ;  let  me  see  ;  a  single 
white  flag  answers  to  none  of  our  signals,  except  it  be  meant 
for  a  flag  of  truce,  and  that  it  can't  be,"  replied  the  captain, 
smiling  at  the  conceit.  "  It  must  have  been  hoisted  purposely 
to  arrest  our  attention,  though,  for,  as  you  say,  it  was  not 
flying  when  we  opened  upon  the  glade.  It  surely  can't  be  any 
party  from  our  cruisers  who  have  by  some  means  been  left 
ashore  here  ?  However,  we'll  reply  to  it,  Mr.  Thompson. 
Ilarley,  (calling  to  a  midshipman,)  tell  the  signal  man  to  give 
you  the  white  flag,  and  run  it  up  ;  and  brace  forward  the  yards 
a  little,  Mr.  Thompson,  (again  addressing  the  lieutenant)  we'll 
stand  in  a  little  closer  ;  the  water  is  deep  here  close  in  to  the 
land  ;  and  send  a  boat  ashore.  Get  the  gig  ready,  and  put  six 
hands  on  board  her,  and  you  had  better  go  ;  no,  stay,  I'll  go 
myself,  and  solve  the  mystery." 

The  vessel  was  soon  as  close  in  shore  as  it  was  thought  safe 
to  run  her,  when  the  captain  ordered  the  main  yard  to  be 
"  laid  aback,"  and  descended  into  the  gig,  which  had  already 
been  lowered,  and  hauled  up  alongside.  In  a  few  minutes  she 
had  entered  the  creek,  which  formed  the  landing  place,  and  the 
captain  sprung  ashore. 

Zuleika,  as  soon  as  she  had  seen  the  answer  to  her  signal 
flying  from  the  gaif-end  of  the  cruiser,  had  quitted  the  hillock 
without  waiting  to  scrutinize  more  closely  the  appearance  of 
the  vessel.  Had  she  done  so,  after  it  had  drawn  nearer  the 
land,  she  would  have  perhaps  known  that  it  was  not  the  Alba 
tross,  and  a  little  reflection  might  have  told  her  that^  unless 
some  accident  had  occurred  to  render  it  necessary  for  Her  hus 
band's  vessel  to  return,  it  could  not  have  been  the  Albatross 
that  had  so  soon  made  her  re-appearance  ;  but,  poor  child,  she 
was  not  used  to  draw  deductions  from  reflection,  and  if  she  had 


174  THE  CABIN  BOY'S  STORY. 

been,  she  would  probably,  in  her  simplicity,  guided  by  the 
sentiments  of  her  own  impulsive  nature,  have  thought  it  no 
thing  to  be  wondered  at,  if  Captain  Seymour  had  returned  to 
bid  her  again  farewell,  before  he  left  her  for  so  long  a  time. 

Jane  Miller  had,  however,  remained  behind  for  some  minutes 
after  Zuleika  had  descended  the  hill,  and  when  the  vessel's 
main  yard  had  been  thrown  "  aback,"  she  saw,  now  the  ship 
was  close  in  shore,  that  there  was  some  mistake.  She  hurried 
after  Zuleika,  who  was  running  in  such  breathless  haste  to 
wards  the  landing  place,  that  she  had  nearly  arrived  in  sight 
of  the  creek  before  Jane  overtook  her. 

"There  is  some  mistake  ;  that  vessel  is  not  the  Albatross," 
she  said;  and  at  this  moment,  the  boat  having  grounded,  Cap 
tain  Hall  was  seen  approaching — "and  that  is  not  Captain 
Seymour,"  she  added,  directing  Zuleika's  attention  to  the 
stranger. 

The  poor  girl  suddenly  stopped,  trembling  with  disappoint 
ment  and  apprehension.  The  thought  struck  her  that  some 
thing  dreadful  must  have  happened  to  her  husband  ;  perhaps 
his  vessel  had  been  lost  and  he  was  drowned,  and  the  stranger 
captain  was  coming  to  tell  her — for  had  he  not  answered  her 
signal  ?  Jane,  who  was  more  conversant  with  sea  usages,  en 
deavored  to  reassure  her,  while  she  placed  her  arm  around  the 
almost  fainting  girl's  waist. 

"  The  signal  has  been  answered,  as  all  such  signals  would  be,  • 
even  by  strangers,"  said  she.  "  I  have  been  told  that  there 
are  several  men-of-war  on  this  coast.  That  vessel  looks  like 
one  to  me.  I  once  saw  one  in  New  York.  The  captain  has 
understood  the  signal  as  a  request  to  send  a  boat  ashore. 
He  is  coming  to  know  what's  wanted." 

"  Santa  Maria !"  exclaimed  Zuleika,  her  alarm  now  taking 
another  shape;  "  what  shall  we  do?" 

"  Simply  answer  the  questions  he  may  put,  and  inform  him 
the  flag  was  hoisted  by  mistake." 

"  And  say  that  I  took  his  vessel  to  be  that  of  my  husband," 
interrupted  Zuleika. 

"  Nay,"  said  Jane  Miller,  who,  with  more  knowledge  of  the 
world  than  her  companion,  feared  that  such  an  explanation 
would,  perhaps,  involve  Seymour  in  difficulty  at  some  future 
day.  "It  is  very  likely  the  captain  does  not  speak  Spanish, 
or  at  least,  only  indifferently,  as  I  do.  Say  that  the  flag  was 
hoisted  by  a  mistake,  and  leave  him  to  infer  the  rest ;  and  Zu 
leika,  be  careful;  do  not  betray  my  disguise." 


T5IE    CABIN    BOY'S    STORY.  175 

While  this  conversation  had  been  going  forward,  Captain 
Hall  had  nearly  reached  the  spot  where  they  stood.  lie  had 
discovered  them  almost  as  soon  as  they  had  perceived  him. 

"  A  petticoat,  by  all  that's  wonderful !"  was  his  rough, 
sailor-like  exclamation.  "What  can  be  the  meaning  of  it? 
I've  had  the  good  fortune  to  fall  in  with  a  romantic  adventure, 
at  all  events.  Quite  a  Grod-send  to  relieve  the  dull  monotony 
of  cruising  on  this  infernal  coast." 

"  Observing  that  the  female,  whoever  she  might  be,  was 
awaiting  his  arrival,  attended  by  a  young  man  attired  in  Eu 
ropean  co.stume,  he  slackened  his  pace,  and  walked  leisurely  to 
wards  them — arid,  as  he  had  subsequently  told  Captain  Trainer, 
he  was  perfectly  -astonished  at  the  loveliness  of  the  island 
damsel. 

As  Jane  Miller  had  anticipated,  he  scarcely  spoke  or  under 
stood  a  word  of  Spanish  ;  and  having  courteously  addressed 
Zuleika  in  English,  to  which  she,  adopting  Jane's  advice,  re 
plied  in  Spanish,  although  she  was  at  this  time  sufficiently 
acquainted  with  English  to  understand  him.  He  turned  to 
Jane,  and  addressed  her  in  a  similar  manner.  Jane  replied  also 
in  Spanish — sufficiently  good  to  deceive  the  captain — but  ob 
serving  the  alarm  of  Zuleika,  she  endeavored  to  signify  that  a 
mistake  had  been  made  in  hoisting  the  flag,  and  to  beg  their 
unexpected  visitor  to  accompany  them  to  the  cottage  and  take 
some  refreshment. 

The  captain  was  able  to  understand  this,  and  nothing  loth  to 
obey,  he  accompanied  them  to  their  residence,  which  he  found 
to  be  handsomely  furnished,  and  supplied  with  not  only  the  ne 
cessaries  but  the  luxuries  of  life;  and  situated  in  the  midst  of  a 
well  cultivated  garden,  while  the  books  and  pictures,  and  in 
struments  of  music  scattered  about  the  apartment,  showed  the 
intellectual  taste  of  the  fair  occupant. 

Trie  captain  was  perfectly  bewildered,  and  almost  fancied 
himself  the  victim  of  some  fairy  delusion.  He,  however,  par 
took  of  the  material  refreshments  offered  him,  and,  after  resting 
for  some  time,  courteously  bade  farewell  to  his  lovely  hostess, 
find  as  much  bewidered  as  ever — quite  unable  to  conceive  who 
the  beautiful  being  could  be  who  resided  thus  in  a  condition  of 
almost  perfect  seclusion  in  this  lonely  isle — he  returned  to  the 
boat  and  ordered  the  men  to  pull  him  on  board  his  vessel.  He 
could  only  account  for  what  he  had  witnessed  in  the  manner 
that  he  had  done  to  Captain  Trainer — viz.,  by  supposing  that 
the  lady  of  the  isle  was  the  wife,  or  more  likely  the  daughter 


176  THE  CABIN  BOY'S  STORY. 

of  some  pirate  or  slaver  captain.  Thus  was  effected  the  dis 
covery  of  the  white  lady  of  Annabon. 

The  calm,  sweet  seclusion  of  Annabon  once  invaded,  its  fu 
ture  privacy  was  doomed.  The  flower  that  bloomed  upon  its 
soil  was  too  fair  to  remain  hidden  from  the  world's  admiration 
when  once  its  beauties  had  been  noised  abroad.  Annabon, 
lovely  and  lonely  island  as  it  was,  could  no  longer  afford  shel 
ter  and  security  to  the  dove  that  whispered  peace,  and  hope, 
and  love  to  the  heart  of  the  wayward  Seymour  ;  to  her  who 
alone  was  able  to  hush  the  strife  of  the  discordant  elements  that 
raged  within  his  breast  ;  to  speak  peace,  and  hope,  and  love, 
and  awaken  happiness  in  the  breast  of  him  from  whose  bosom, 
but  for  her  softening  influence,  the  hope  of  happiness  would 
have  been  forever  banished.  But  of  this  intrusion  into  the 
sanctuary  of  his  love  he  knew  not  yet.  What  was  the  result 
of  it  when  he  did  know  it  ?  Time  will  show. 

Both  Zuleika  and  Jane  Miller  had  seen  the  G as  she 

approached  the  island,  and  had  observed  the  boat  put  off  from 
her  side,  and  pull  towards  the  creek  ;  but,  warned  by  the  re 
sult  of  former  inadvertency,  they  had  made  no  sign — hoisted 
no  signal  of  recognition.  They  awaited  at  the  cottage  the  re 
sult  of  the  visit,  which  they  believed  was  intended  for  them, 
and  which  they  also  believed  had  been  caused  by  the  visit  of 
the  stranger  captain  a  few  weeks  before. 

Young  Miller  and  Charlotte  Herbert  found  no  one,  therefore, 
to  meet  them  when  they  stepped  ashore  from  the  boat  ;  but 
they  perceived  the  pathway  that  had  been  trodden  through  the 
woods,  hereabouts  thinned  of  trees,  but  almost  impenetrable, 
save  by  the  pathway,  in  consequence  of  the  prickly  cactuses — 
the  weeds  of  this  country — the  cherished  exotics  of  northern 
climes — which  spread  themselves  in  every  direction.  Follow 
ing  the  path,  they  at  length  arrived  in  sight  of  the  little  clear 
ing,  the  plantation,  and  the  cottage.  Some  negroes  approached 
them,  and  asked  what  the  strangers  wanted  ;  but  they  could 
not  understand  them ;  they  pointed  to  the  cottage  and  pursued 
their  way.  The  influence  of  civilization — perhaps,  still  more, 
the  influence  of  the  gentle  being  who  had  caused  the  refinement 
of  civilization  to  find  an  abiding  place  amidst  these  savage  soli 
tudes — had  rendered  the  very  negroes  courteous  and  kindly. 
Interpreting  the  signs  made  to  them,  they  guided  the  travellers 
on  their  way  by  the  nearest  and  smoothest  paths. 

Observing  them  approach  the  cottage,  and  seeing  that  one 
of  the  strange  visitors  was  a  female — a  strange  visitor,  indeed, 


177 

to  the  solitudes  of  Annabon — Zuleika  and  Jane  Miller  came 
forth  from  the  cottage  to  meet  them  ;  but  the  latter,  to  her 
mingled  surprise,  joy,  and  consternation,  recognized  in  the 
young  officer  her  brother.  Her  first  impulse  was  to  rush  into 
his  arms — her  next,  to  fly,  and  hide  herself  from  his  gaze  ;  but 
then  she  thought,  "  Since  I  have  been  able  to  deceive  Captain 
Seymour,  and  even  Zuleika,  as  regards  my  sex,  it  is  hardly 
likely  he  will  recognize  me.  My  attire,  my  close-cropped  hair, 
my  bronzed  complexion,  will  deceive  him  likewise."  She  hoped 
they  would,  and  yet,  strange  contrariety,  she  felt  her  heart 
swell  and  throb  almost  to  bursting  at  the  thought  that  her 
brother — her  only  brother — should  meet  her,  here,  so  far  dis 
tant  from  those  she  loved  at  home,  an  outcast  from  her  friends 
by  her  own  actions,  a  victim  of  her  own  mad  infatuation — and 
pass  her  by  unheeded.  She  could  not  endure  the  thought,  and 
she  turned  aside  her  head  to  conceal  the  tears  that,  in  spite  of 
herself,  gushed  to  her  eyes.  What  would  she  not  have  given 
to  have  met  here,  in  this  distant  solitude,  her  brother,  alone  ; 
no  one  near  to  witness  the  interview — to  become  cognizant  of 
her  shame.  He  was  younger  than  she,  but  still,  as  her  brother, 
especially  now  that  he  was  growing  towards  man's  estate,  she 
could  have  looked  up  to  him  as  a  protector. 

"  Oh,  had  I  but  met  him  alone,"  she  murmured,  "  I  would 
have  confided  all  to  him." 

But  she  had  little  need  to  turn  her  head  away,  and  hide  her 
gushing  tears.  The  young  man  had  hardly  noticed  her.  He 
had  seen  one  whom  he  believed  to  be  a  youth  of  his  own  age 
accompany  the  lady  he  had  been  sent  to  visit,  and  then  his 
whole  attention  had  been  absorbed  in  the  contemplation  of  the 
lady's  surpassing  loveliness.  Thomas  Miller  was  just  of  that 
age  when  the  imagination  of  youth  first  commences  to  become 
susceptible  to  the  influence  of  female  beauty,  and  he  thought 
that  he  saw  before  him  the  embodiment  of  all  that  a  poet's  or 
a  lover's  imagination  (much  the  same  thing  in  this  regard) 
could  conceive  to  be  the  perfection  of  feminine  loveliness — the 
cold,  passionless  ideal  of  the  statuary's  art,  wrought  to  perfec 
tion  from  the  separate  beauties  of  a  dozen  models,  instinct  with 
life  and  feeling,  and  glowing  in  all  her  living,  breathing,  blush 
ing,  peerless  charms;  and  Jane  observed  this  admiration,  and  a 
cold  chill  struck  to  her  heart.  It  was  foolish — she  knew  her 
brother  had  not  recognized  her — she  felt  that,  as  she  was  now, 
in  the  presence  of  those  by  whom  she  was  surrounded,  she 
would  sooner  part  from  him  forever — would  sooner  die,  solitary 

8* 


178  THE    CABIN    BOY'S    STORY. 

outcast  as  she  felt  herself  to  be,  than  that  he  should  recognize 
her ;  and  yet  she  felt,  bitterly  felt,  this  all-absorbing  admiration 
of  a  stranger,  while  she,  his  lost  sister,  was  so  near  ;  and  no 
look,  not  one  searching  gaze,  not  one  perplexing  doubt  upon 
his  features,  as  he  turned  towards  her,  that  might  lead  her  to 
suppose  he  thought  that  in  the  supposed  youth  before  him  he 
recognized  his  sister's  lineaments.  Was  she  then  utterly  for 
gotten—cast  adrift  forever  from  the  affections  of  those  she  had 
abandoned  at  the  dictates  of  an  infatuation  that  now  she  shud 
dered  and  wondered  at  ?  Yet  it  was  as  she  had  but  that  mo 
ment  wished  it  would  be — her  disguise  was  complete,  her  brother 
knew  her  not  ;  and  still,  strange  contrariety  of  human  nature, 
we  repeat,  she  felt  as  though  the  agony  of  soul  she  suffered 
were  unendurable,  as  thus  she  stood — her  loss  forgotten,  her 
very  existence  seemingly  ignored  by  him  whom,  fl*om  the  days 
of  his  earliest  childhood,  she  had  nursed,  and  fondled,  and  loved 
with  all  the  devotion  of  an  only  sister's  love. 

The  young  midshipman  knew  only  a  very  few  phrases  of 
Spanish,  which  he  had  picked  up  at  school,  and  he  was  using 
these  very  much  at  random,  in  the  endeavor  to  make  himself 
agreeable  to  the  unknown  lady.  He  appeared  quite  to  have 
forgotten  that  he  had  the  duty  to  perform  of  introducing  Char 
lotte  Herbert;  and  the  young  woman,  observing  the  absorption 
of  her  escort,  smiled  to  herself,  and  advanced  to  the  spot  where 
Jane  Miller  was  standing.  Perhaps  the  youth  and  good  looks 
of  the  supposed  boy  interested  her  ;  she  addressed  to  Jane  a 
few  words  in  Spanish,  with  which  language  she  had,  during 
her  residence  in  New  Orleans,  become  slightly  acquainted,  and 
extended  her  hand.  Jane  took  the  proffered  hand,  and  smiled 
faintly,  at  the  same  time  replying  in  Spanish;  but  suddenly  she 
snatched  her  hand  away,  as  though  it  had  been  stung  by  a 
scorpion — a  convulsive  shudder  passed  through  her  frame,  and 
her  heart  seemed  to  rise  in  her  throat  and  choke  her  utterance. 
Her  palm  had  come  in  contact  with  the  ring  Miss  Herbert 
wore  that  day  on  the  third  finger  of  the  right  hand,  and  she 
had  glanced  towards  it.  It  was  the  counterpart  of  the  ring 
she  had  been  presented  with  by  Seymour.  "  Oh  God !"  she 
thought,  "  is  this  another  victim  to  his  wiles — am  I  not  alone 
in  my  wretchedness  ?:'  and  then  she  looked  towards  the  spot 
where  the  young  midshipman  and  Zuleika  were  still  engaged  in 
broken  attempts  at  conversation.  "  Alas  I"  she  murmured, 
"  poor,  poor  deceived  Zuleika  1" 

Charlotte  Herbert  knew  not  what  to  think  of  the  strange 


THE    CABIN    BOY's    STORY,  179 

action  of  the  supposed  boy.  She  imagined  he  was  unwell; 
and  with  a  look  of  commiseration  she  again  addressed  him ; 
but  Jane  had  turned  her  back,  and  walking  towards  an  arbor, 
near  by,  she  took  from  her  bosom  a  ring  tied  to  a  piece  of  black 
silk  ribbon.  "  I  could  not  have  lost  it,"  she  muttered  ;  "no  : 
and  if  I  had,  how  could  she  have  found"  it  ?  it  is  too  true  ;  it 
must  be  as  I  surmise.  Here  is  my  ring  ;  I  seldom  look  at  it 
now.  Henceforward  it  is  valueless,  indeed.  Seymour  must 
have  given  a  similar  ring  to  that  young  woman  ;  but  this  is 
folly  on  my  part ;  poor  thing,  she  too,  as  well  as  I,  is  to  be 
pitied.  Strange,  too,  that  she  should  have  come  hither,"  and 
recovering  in  some  degree  her  composure,  she  returned  to  Miss 
Herbert,  made  some  trifling  excuse  of  sudden  indisposition,  and 
her  resolution  not  to  be  recognized  by  her  brother,  returning 
with  renewed  strength,  she  walked  slowly  towards  the  cottage, 
leaving  Zuleika  and  her  visitors  together. 

The  young  midshipman  endeavored  to  make  it  understood 
that  his  captain  would  shortly  pay  the  lady  of  the  isle  a  visit, 
and  then  leaving  Miss  Herbert  on  shore  with  Zuleika,  he  went 
back  to  the  boat  and  returned  on  board  the  vessel. 

"  Come  on  board,  sir,"  said  the  youngster,  as  after  ascend 
ing  the  side  of  the  G ,  he  advanced  to  the  captain,  touch 
ing  his  cap  with  his  forefinger. 

"  So  I  perceive  Mr.  Miller,"  said  the  captain,  "  well,  sir, 
and  what  report  have  you  to  make  ?  Where  is  Miss 
Herbert  ?" 

"  I  left  her  behind,  as  you  desired  me  to  do,  sir,  if  I  was 
fortunate  enough  to  meet  with  the  young  lady." 

"  From  which  I  infer  that  you  have  been  fortunate  enough 
to  do  so.  Did  you  deliver  my  message  ?" 

"  Upon  my  word,  sir,  I  scarcely  know  whether  I  did  or  not. 
I  tried  to  do  so,  at  any  rate." 

"What  do  you  mean  by  that,  sirrah?"  said  the  captain, 
sharply.  "  You  tried  to  deliver  my  message  ?" 

"  As  well  as  I  could  in  Spanish,  sir,  but  I  guess  my  lan 
guage  was  something  like  that  of  Mr.  Ross,  when  he  held  the 
palaver  with  the  old  chief  at  Fernando  Po,  a  sort  of  mixture 
of  English,  bad  French,  and  worse  Spanish." 

The  lieutenant,  who  was  standing  near  by,  turned  to  the 
lad,  and  playfully  shook  his  fist  at  him.  "None  of  your  im 
pertinent  allusions  to  my  Spanish,"  said  he,  "if  you  please,  Mr. 
Miller." 


180  THE  CABIN  BOY'S  STORY. 

"Well,  well,"  continued  the  captain,  "I  suppose  you  made 
yourself  understood  ?" 

"  I  imagine  I  did,  sir." 

"  And  what  sort  of  a  creature  is  this  divinity  of  the  island 
— this  White  Lady  of  Annabon,  as  Trainer  quaintly  called 
her.  Some  hideous  old  hag,  I  suppose,  whom  the  vivid  fancy 
of  Captain  Hall  has  persuaded  himself  is  an  angel  of  light.  I 
have  known  such  Quixotic  transformations  of  Dulcineas  into 
Duchesses  to  occur  often,  when  a  man  has  been  six  months  out 
of  sight  of  a  petticoat." 

"  Sir  !"  said  the  youth,  in  a  tone  of  such  apparent  astonish 
ment  at  the  captain's  irreverence,  that  the  latter,  as  well  as  the 
lieutenant,  smiled. 

"  Why,  young  gentleman,"  said  the  captain,  "  you  are  surely 
not  smitten  with  the  charms  of  this  island  beauty,  are  you  ? 
Beware,  youngster.  Keep  the  fate  of  Don  Juan  in  remem 
brance,  and  beware  how  you  give  way  to  the  influence  of  the 
charms  of  this  African  Haidee,  or  perhaps  you  rnay  find  a 
second  Lambro  in  her  father  or  lover,  or,  perchance,  her  hus 
band.  But,  describe  the  enchantress  of  the  isle,  boy.  What 
is  she  like  ?" 

"  The  most  lovely  creature  I  ever  saw — ever  imagined," 
said  the  youth.  "If  Powers'  Greek  Slave  could  step  from  her 
pedestal  imbued  with  life,  she  would  be  nothing  to  compare 
with  her.  No,  nor  yet  the  Medicean  Venus  either,  let  alone 
the  wax-work  beauty  in  Barnum's  Museum." 

Again  the  captain  and  lieutenant  laughed,  and  this  time 
heartily.  At  length  the  captain  said — • 

"  A  sad  descent  from  your  heroics,  that  lame  termination  of 
your  comparison,  Mr.  Miller.  A  step  from  the  sublime  to  the 
ridiculous  with  a  vengeance.  However,  you  have  raised  my 
curiosity,  and  I  shall  fulfil  my  intention  of  paying  this  extra 
ordinary  beauty  a  visit.  I  was  thinking  of  taking  you  on  shore 
again  ;  but  I  am  afraid  you  will  lose  your  wits  altogether,  if  I 
again  expose  you  to  the  Circean  wiles  of  the  island  enchant 
ress." 

"  I  hope  you  will  not  alter  your  intention,  sir,"  said  the 
youth,  again  touching  his  cap. 

"Well,  well,"  exclaimed  the  captain,  "  I  see  you  are  resolved 
not  to  1  ake  warning.  Into  the  boat  with  you  then.  Mr.  Ross 
(addressing  the  lieutenant)  order  the  crew  into  the  boat  again, 
sir.  I  shall  be  back  in  the  course  of  an  hour." 


THE    CABIN    BOY'S    STORY.  181 

"Aye,  aye,  sir,"  said  the  lieutenant;  and  then  lie  added — 
"  My  curiosity  has  been  so  much  excited  that  I  should  really 
like  to  accompany  you  on  shore,  in  order  to  gratify  it,  Captain 
P ,  if  you  have  no  objection." 

"  None  in  the  least,  Mr.  Ross,"  said  the  captain — "  Tell  Mr. 
Roberts  to  take  charge  of  the  deck  and  come  along." 

Again  the  boat  landed  with  the  new  visitors,  and  the  cap 
tain  and  lieutenant  were  conducted  to  the  house  by  the  young 
midshipman.  They  found  Miss  Herbert  seated  with  Zuleika, 
and  already  on  very  good  terms  apparently,  endeavoring  to 
converse  in  a  mixture  of  broken  Spanish  and  English,  but  Jane 
Miller  had  disappeared. 

The  captain  and  Mr.  Ross  were  introduced  rather  through 
the  medium  of  Miss  Herbert  than  by  young  Miller.  Both 
were  astonished  and  charmed  with  the  beauty  of  the  island 
recluse. 

"  By  Jove  !"  said  Captain  P ,  aside,  to  the  lieutenant, 

"  Captain  Trainer  had  reason  to  eulogize  the  White  Lady  of 
Annabon.  Who  can  she  be  ?  and  how  did  she  get  here  ?  I 
should  much  like  to  know,  and  yet  it  would  be  rude  to  ask, 
even  if  she  would  inform  us.  She  seems  to  be  quite  alone 
amongst  these  rude  negroes." 

"  There  was  a  lad  with  her  when  I  first  came  ashore,"  inter 
posed  young  Miller,  "  who  seemed  to  be  on  pretty  familiar 
terms  with  her  too  ;  a  rough  looking  chap,  dressed  like  the 
cabin  boy  or  steward  of  some  merchantman.  But  I  have  not 
seen  him  this  time." 

"  He  is  a  very  good  looking,  nay  handsome  lad,"  interrupted 
Miss  Herbert  ;  "  but  he  has  retired.  The  lady  intimates  that 
he  is  unwell." 

"  You  may  think  him  handsome,"  said  the  young  midship 
man  ;  "but  for  my  part  I  thought  him  the  most  ungainly. cub' 
I  had  ever  seen." 

"  Take  care,  youngster,"  said  the  captain,  laughing  ;  "  a  little 
while  ago,  I  feared  that  you  had  fallen  in  love  with  the  divinity 
of  this  island,  and  now  you  are  quarreling  with  Miss  Herbert, 
because  she  happens  to  admire  a  youth  of  about  your  age. 
Really,  one  would  think  you  wished  to  engross  the  admiration 
of  both  ladies  yourself." 

This  conversation  had  been  carried  on,  in  a  low  voice,  while 
Zuleika  sat  on  an  ottoman,  at  a  short  distance.  She  seemed 
ill  at  ease,  and  anxious  that  her  visitors  should  take  their 
departure,  and  observing  this,  the  captain  and  lieutenant  rose 


182  THE  CABIN  BOY'S  STORY. 

to  take  their  leave.  Miss  Herbert  and  the  young  midshipman, 
of  course,  following  their  example. 

At  this  moment  a  negro  attendant  entered  the  room  and 
whispered  in  the  ear  of  Zuleika. 

"  Will  you  be  seated  for  a  moment  ?"  she  said  in  Spanish, 
which  request  was  translated  by  Miss  Herbert. 

Of  course  the  party  resumed  their  seats  and  in  the  course  of 
a  few  minutes  Zuleika  returned  with  a  handsome  bouquet  of 
flowers  which  she  presented  to  the  captain,  who  thanked  her 
and  bade  her  farewell.  She  glanced  meaningly  at  Miss  Her 
bert,  who  fell  behind  the  party  and  walked  with  her  to  the 
entrance  of  the  plantation  surrounding  the  cottage. 

"  The  bouquet  was  but  an  excuse  to  gain  time,"  she  said  to 
Miss  Herbert.  "  Here  are  two  letters,  one  for  you  and  one  for 
that  young  gentleman,"  pointing  to  young  Miller.  "  They 
have  been  written  while  I  was  away  on  the  pretext  of  getting 
the  flowers — keep  it  secret  that  you  have  got  them,  and  do  not 
read  them  till  you  get  on  board  your  ship."  Utterly  astonished 
as  she  was  at  this  strange  termination  of  a  strange  visit,  Miss 
Herbert,  of  course,  gave  the  required  promise,  and  bidding 
Zuleika  farewell,  she  hastened  to  rejoin  the  party. 

"  Well,  Miss  Herbert,"  said  Captain  P ,  "  has  this  fair 

queen  been  bestowing  her  confidence  upon  you  ?  Can  you 
enlighten  us  at  all,  as  to  who  she  is,  and  how  she  came  to  be  a 
recluse  upon  this  island  ?" 

"  I  cannot,  sir,"  said  Miss  Herbert.  "  I  did  endeavor  to 
make  some  inquiries  while  I  was  left  alone  with  her,  but  she 
evaded  them  and  seemed  displeased  ;  so  I  did  not  press  them  ; 
besides,  sometimes  we  could  with  difficulty  understand  each 
other." 

"  Well,  I  adhere  to  my  already  expressed  supposition  regard- 
•ing.her,"  said  the  captain,  as  he  stepped  into  the  boat. 

"  She  certainly  is  the  most  beautiful  creature  I  ever  beheld," 
said  Lieutenant  Ross, 

"  Hilloa,  Ross — what!  you  smitten  too?"  exclaimed  Captain 

P f  "why,  that's  a  worse  case  than  that  of  Mr.  Miller. 

Suppose  I  write  word  to  Mrs.  Ross.  What'll  she  say,  when 
the  G gets  home  again  ?'7 

The  lieutenant  smiled,  and  replied,  "  Oh  don't  be  alarmed, 
sir,  I  can  admire  beauty  without  betraying  my  fealty  to  my 
wife." 

"I  hope  so,"  said  the  captain,  in  a  jocose  tone  of  voice  ; 
"  but  upon  my  word,  Ross,  if  I  were  in  your  wife's  shoes,  I 


ZULEIKA  IN  HER  COTTAGE  AT  ANNABO, 

"Of  course  the  party  resumed  their  seats  and  in  a  few  minutes  Zuleika  returned  with  a  hand 
some  bcquet  ofjlawers  which  she  presented  to  the  captain,  who  thanked  her  and  bade  her  fare 
well.  She  glanced  meaningly  at  Miss  Herbert,  who  fell  behind  the  party  and  walked  with  her  to 
the  entrance  cf  the  plantation  surrounding  the  cottage." 


STORY.  183 

shouldn't  like  you  to  pay  too  frequent  visits  to  this  paragon  of 
beauty." 

The  boat  reached  the  vessel,  the  captain,  officers,  and  crew, 
with  Miss  Herbert,  ascended  the  side  ;  the  boat  was  hoisted 
in,  the  main-yard  squared,  and  the  ship  held  in  her  course. 

Miss  Herbert,  to  the  astonishment  of  young  Miller,  placed 
the  letter  she  had  received  for  him,  which  was  sealed  while  hers 
was  open,  in  his  hand,  the  first  opportunity  she  had  to  do  so 
unperceived,  saying  archly,  "  From  the  fair  lady  of  Annabon  to 
Mr.  Miller." 

She  then  sought  her  own  cabin  to  read  her  letter — her  curi 
osity  to  know  the  contents  of  the  mysterious  epistle  being  of 
course  greatly  excited. 

She  read  it,  and  her  astonishment  was  redoubled.  It  was 
written  in  a  delicate  female  hand,  and  ran  as  follows  : 

"  Lady,  whoever  you  maybe,  trust  not  to  him  who  gave  you 
the  ring  you  wear;  he  has  deceived  me  and  another  as  well  as 
me.  He  has  caused  my  utter  alienation  from  all  whom  I  have 
hitherto  held  dear  ;  and  I  fear  he  has  deceived  and  betrayed 
another,  who  is  too  innocent  and  guiltless  to  distrust  him.  If 
he  has  not  done  so  already,  he  will  betray  you.  I  know  not 
whether  you  are  on  board  the  man-of-war  with  the  intention  of 
seeking  him  ;  but  if  so,  I  tell  you,  he  has  gone  home  to  Amer 
ica.  I  will  not  say  what  he  is  for  the  sake  of  the  innocent  be 
ing  of  whom  I  have  spoken,  I  would  not  injure  him;  but,  be  sure 
of  this,  he  is  not  what  he  represents  himself  to  be.  It  is  not 
the  peaceful  occupation  of  the  merchant  service  he  follows — 
nor  is  he  engaged  in  duties  of  the  national  service — you  can 
make  your  own  comments — I  have  but  done  my  duty  in  warn 
ing  you. 

"  One  who  has  loved  and  been  deceived  and  betrayed,  as  I 
fear  you  have." 

Again  and  again  did  Charlotte  Herbert  peruse  this  singular 
note.  "  What  can  she  mean  ?  to  whom  or  to  what  can  she  al 
lude.  He  who  gave  me  this  ring  !  (looking  at  the  ring  upon 
her  finger.)  '  He,  is  not  what  he,  seems,1  perhaps  in  one  sense, 
he  is  not  ;  in  one  sense  I  know  too  truly  he  is  not.  '  He  is  not 
in  the  peaceful  merchant  service,  nor  yet  engaged  in  the  honorable 
duties  of  the  national  service1  Well,  I  know  he  is  not.  '  One 
who  has  loved  and  been  deceived  and  betrayed  as,  I  fear,  you  have.1 
Ha !  yes,  there  lies  the  key  to  these  mysterious  warnings — 
yes,  poor  girl  !  she  has  been  deceived  and  betrayed  and  driven 


184 

to  insanity,  arid  perhaps  imprisoned  on  this  lone  island.  That  is 
her  secret  history,  at  least  the  outline  of  it;  perhaps  there  is 
a  darker  mystery  beneath  its  surface. 

"  Shall  I  show  this  letter  to  captain  P ?  No,  it  would 

answer  no  purpose  ;  besides  I  must  recollect  he  knows  nothing 
of  my  history,  other  than  that  J  was  picked  up  when  at  the 
point  of  death,  by  him — -after  the  awful  catastrophe  on  board 
the  ill-fated  Laurel.  I  should  like,  however,  to  know  what  the 
poor  creature  could  have  to  say  to  Mr.  Miller.  Poor  thing  ! 
I  thought  my  own  sorrows  hard  enough  to  bear  ;  but  thank 
heaven  my  intellect  has  been  spared  me.  So  young,  too,  and 
so  exquisitely  beautiful." 

Miss  Herbert  folded  up  her  letter,  placed  it  in  her  pocket, 
and  went  on  deck  to  breathe  the  cool  air  of  the  evening,  as  the 
vessel  was  slowly  sailing  along  the  land,  for  the  wind  was  light, 
and  the  island  of  Annabon  was  still  in  sight  to  leeward. 

Let  us  now  discover  what  was  contained  in  the  letter  that 
had  been  delivered  to  young  Miller.  His  first  thought  when 
the  letter  was  placed  in  his  hand  by  Miss  Herbert,  was  a  very 
vain  and  simple  one  ;  but  after  all,  a  very  natural  one  to  a 
youth  of  his  age,  who,  to  tell  the  truth,  was  somewhat  proud 
of  his  own  good  looks. 

"  So  that  beautiful  creature  has  fallen  in  love  with  me,  I 
guess,  or  else  why  should  she  send  me  a  letter  ?  Well,  if  I 
thought  so,  I'd  leave  the  ship  if  I  could,  and  get  ashore  on  the 
island,  and  live  with  her  always.  What  a  happy  life  it  would 
be  !  Nobody  to  think  of  but  ourselves — nothing  to  do  but  to 
make  love  to  each  other  continually.  I  don't  wonder  at  the 
stories  I  have  heard  of  sailors  running  away  after  the  island 
beauties  of  the  South  Seas,  and  giving  up  everything  for  their 
sakes — that  is  to  say,  if  they  are  only  half  as  beautiful  as  this 
White  Lady  of  Annabon,  as  they  call  her  ;  but  of  course  it 
isn't  to  be  expected  that  anybody  can  be  so  perfect  as  she  is. 
I  wish  my  watch  on  deck  was  over.  My  fingers  itch  to  open 
the  letter  now,  on  deck  ;  but  I  am  determined  to  wait  and 
enjoy  it  all  to  myself  in  the  gun-room.  I  am  sure  I  shall 
dream  of  that  girl  all  the  watch  below — that  is,  if  I  get  any 
sleep  at  all.  Heigh-ho  !  I  now  begin  to  experience  the  truth 
of  that  at  which  I  have  so  often  laughed,  the  torment  of  being 
in  love  ;  I've  often  thought  I've  been  in  love  ;  but  I  never  felt 
what  love  really  was  until  I  saw  that  girl  to-day.  I  wonder 
who  she  is  ?  and  how  she  came  to  be  on  the  island  ?  Perhaps 
carried  there  against  her  will,  on  account  of  her  beauty.  What 


185 

a  gallant  thing  it  would  be  to  rescue  her  and  carry  her  off. 
Perhaps  she  explains  in  the  letter.  The  watch  is  nearly  out — 
I've  a  good  mind  to  go  below  ;  I  don't  think  I  shall  be  wanted 
or  missed  from  the  deck,  for  I  really  cannot  bear  this  suspense 
much  longer." 

Thus,  in  disconnected  thoughts,  soliloquized  the  boy  of  six 
teen,  elated  with  the  idea  of  having  gained  the  affections  of  the 
most  beautiful  being  he  had  ever  seen  or  dreamed  of ;  and 
casting  a  cautious  glance  around,  and  seeing  the  lieutenant  of 
the  watch  leaning  lazily  against  the  bulwarks,  and  none  of  the 
officers  observing  him,  he  resolved  to  anticipate  the  end  of  the 
watch,  and  to  go  below.  His  foot  was  already  on  the  rounds 
of  the  ladder,  when  he  heard  the  voice  of  the  captain,  who  had 
just  come  up  from  his  cabin,  shouting  "  Mr.  Miller." 

"Here,  sir,"  said  the  youth,  hastily  retracing  his  steps,  and 
concealing  the  letter  which  he  had  withdrawn  from  his  pocket. 

"  Jump  up  aloft,  Mr.  Miller,  and  take  a  spy-glass  with  you, 
and  sweep  the  horizon,  and  let  me  know  if  there  are  any  ships 
in  sight — your  eyes  are  good,  especially,  look  well  along  the 
shadow  of  the  land." 

"  Aye,  aye,  sir,"  replied  the  youthful  aspirant  to  naval 
honors,  compelled  to  obey  and  to  assume  an  alacrity  he  did  not 
fed,  and  the  letter  was  again  placed  in  his  pocket,  and  in  an 
other  minute  he  was  aloft  and  busily  engaged  in  the — at  this 
time — somewhat  annoying  duty. 

"  Do  you  make  out  anything  ?"  shouted  the  captain  from  the 
deck. 

"Nothing,  sir." 

"  That  will  do,  then  ;  you  can  come  down.  What  o'clock  is 
it  Mr.  Roberts  ?"  addressing  the  officer  of  the  watch. 

"Just  eight  bells,  sir.  I  am  going  to  order  the  watch  to  be 
called." 

The  watch  below  was  called  ;  the  watch  on  deck  relieved, 
and  at  length  the  young  midshipman  found  the  long-coveted 
opportunity  to  read  tlie  letter  he  had  so  strangely  received. 
As  he  opened  the  envelope  a  small  package  fell  from  the  letter 
to  the  deck  ;  he  let  it  lay  for  the  present.  The  hand  was 
evidently  disguised,  for  the  formation  of  the  letters  varied  con 
siderably,  and  the  first  thought  of  the  youth,  as  he  opened  the 
letter,  was,  "  What  a  pity  so  beautiful  a  creature  should  write 
such  a  clumsy  hand.  I  can  hardly  spell  it  out;  however,  let's 
see  what  she  says — 

"  '  You  have  this  day  seen  the  sister  whose  absence  may  have 


186  THE    CABIN 

caused  much  grief  to  you  and  to  her  mother;  and  yet,  perhaps, 
you  have  already  forgotten  her,  for  you  gazed  upon  her  and 
did  not  recognize  her.  Is  she  so  much  altered  ?  Is  her  dis 
guise  then  so  perfect  ?  Perhaps  it  was  well  it  was  so,  and  yet 
had  there  been  one  sign  of  recognition,  she  would  have  thrown 
her  arms  around  your  neck,  and  embraced  you  ;  though  her 
plans  would  have  been  frustrated,  and  to  your  feelings  as  well 

as  to  hers,  the  expose  might  have  been  painful ' 

"  Hilloa!  What  the  d — 1's  the  meaning  of  this  ?"  exclaimed 
the  youngster,  who  had  already  become  initiated  into  certain 
sea  expletives  more  expressive  than  euphonious.  "  Does  that 
little  witch  mean  to  insinuate  that  she's  my  sister  ?'  I  wish 
she  was — no  I  don't,  though — I'd  sooner  she  was  my  cousin, 
or  something  of  that  sort.  But  then  she  says,  '  Is  her  disguise 
so  perfect?'  That's  a  little  too  much  gammon,  by  Jove!  Does 
she  think  that  she's  going  to  make  me  believe  that  Jane — and 
poor  Jane's  a  pretty  girl,  too — could  effect  so  complete  a  meta 
morphosis  as  that  ?  Why,  Jane's  two  inches  taller,  and 
stouter,  and  has  dark  hair,  and  features  entirely  different.  No, 
no — I'm  not  quite  such  a  simpleton  as  to  be  taken  in  that  way. 
But  let's  see  what  more  the  little  gipsy  has  to  say.  *  *  * 
'  Th&re  was  no  occasion  Jor  you  to  have  endeavored  to  speaJt  in 
a,  foreign  language,  of  which  you  are  almost  entirely  ignorant 
(very  complimentary,  certainly)  ;  for,  had  you  spoken  English, 
you  would  have  been,  of  course,  better  understood.  (The  d — 1! 
How  provoking  of  the  little  witch.  She  understands  English, 
and  kept  me  jabbering  a  parcel  of  nonsense  in  a  language  I 
hardly  know  a  dozen  words  of.  I  dare  say  she  was  laughing 
at  me  all  the  time  she  was  pretending  to  look  so  serious.  Just 
like  the  girls,  that.)  However,  it  was  better  as  it  was.  All 
is  over  ;  perhaps  we  shall  never  meet  face  to  face  again.  (We 
shall,  if  I  can  manage  it.)  /  have  been  induced  to  write  be 
cause  I  wish  you  to  let  my  mother,  OUR  mother  know,  and:  to 
reveal  the  fact  to  her  alone,  that  I  am  living,  and  in  good 
bodily  health.  (There  she  is  again — off  at  a  tangent.  What 
the  mischief  can  she  mean  ?  She's  not  my  sister — I  know  that 
well  enough — and  yet  she  must  know  all  about  our  family  af 
fairs.  However,  let  me  read  to  the  end.)  And  now,  dear 
brother,  perhaps  I  now  call  you  so  for  the  last  time  ( Ah !  why 
didn't  she  say  that  when  I  was  ashore — I'd  have  taken  a  kiss 
for  that,  at  any  rate;  but  then,  what  humbug!  '  dear  brother/ 
as  if  she  really  expected  me  to  believe  her.  Where  was  I  ? 
ah!)  for  the  last  time.  Pray  keep  this  a  secret  from  every 


THE  CABIN  BOY'S  STORY.  187 

one.  Let  no  one  know  WHERE  you  have  met  me — not  even  OUR 
mother.  Some  day  we  MAY  meet  again  ;  if  not,  faremell.  My 
prayers  and  good  wishes  shall  follow  you  wherever  you  may 

wander '  and  that's  all,"  exclaimed  the  youth,  as  he  finished 

the  perusal  of  the  letter.  "That  beats  cock-fighting — our 
mother !  Why,  she's  no  more  like  Jane  than  Miss  Herbert  is. 
Poor  Jane!  I  wish  I  had  met  her.  But  how  the  d — /  could 
sh-e  know  any  thing  about  me?  She  can't  surely  be  Jane! 
No,  to  be  sure  she  isn't — unless  she's  been  transmogrified  by 
some  enchanter  whose  island  she  has  invaded,  or  is  an  enchant 
ress  herself,  like  Ariel  in  the  '  Tempest.'  It's  almost  enough 
to  make  a  fellow  believe  in  such  things,  to  see  such  a  creature 
as  she  living  by  herself  in  this  out  of  the  way  part  of  the  world. 
Halloa  !  what's  this  that  has  fallen  from  the  envelope  ?"  con 
tinued  the  youth,  now  recollecting  the  package  that  had  fallen 
to  the  deck,  and  picking  it  up,  he  untwisted  the  paper,  which 
contained  some  solid  substance.  "  What  !  by  all  that's  won 
derful!  here's  the  ring  my  mother  had  upon  her  finger  when  I 
left  home — the  very  same  ring — with  the  first  letter  of  Jane's 
name  engraved  inside."  (The  youth  had  never  seen  the  ring 
worn  by  Miss  Herbert,  and  alluded  to  in  the  former  letter,  as 
she  had  only  put  it  on  her  finger  when  going  ashore,  and  had 
removed  it  on  her  return  on  board.)  "Well,  that  caps  the 
climax,"  continued  he,  drawing  a  long  breath;  "  that's  a  poser, 
at  any  rate  ;  there's  some  magic  about  it,  that's  certain.  I'll 
believe  any  thing  now.  What's  this  inside  the  paper  ?  '  A 
proof,  for  my  mother,  that  I  am  still  living.  Tom,  give  it  to 
her,  and  tell  her  to  wear  it  for  my  sake?  I  wonder  whether 
I'm  awake  or  dreaming,"  said  the  lad,  as  he  stood  in  a  state  of 
bewilderment,  alternately  contemplating  the  r^ng  and  the  let 
ter.  *•'  I'll  put  it  in  my  pocket,  at  all  events,  and  see  if  I  can 
find  it  there  in  the  morning.  Perhaps  it  may  take  a  journey 
back  again  across  the  Atlantic.  Well,  I  can  make  nothing  of 
it.  Either  I'm  mad,  or  the  little  fairy  on  the  island  is  mad,  or 
we  are  all  under  the  influence  of  enchantment  together.  I 
shall  turn  in  ;"  and  the  youth  sprang  into  his  hammock,  and 
was  soon  sound  asleep.  When  the  watch  was  called,  his  first 
thought  was  to  look  for  the  letter  and  the  ring.  He  thought 
he  had  been  dreaming — but  no,  both  were  in  his  pocket.  He 
went  on  deck,  resolving  to  say  nothing  about  the  matter  at 
present  to  any  one.  During  the  day  Miss  Herbert,  whose  cu 
riosity  had  been  as  much  excited  as  had  young  Miller's,  and 
who  had  been  almost  equally  as  much  puzzled  to  understand 


188  THE  CABIN  BOY'S  STORY. 

the  allusions  in  her  letter,  sought  an  opportunity  of  speaking 
to  the  youth,  and  playfully  asked  what  news  he  had  from  the 
lady  of  Aimabon. 

"  News,"  said  the  youngster  in  reply,  "  why  she's  either  mad 
or  bewitched,  or  is  making  a  fool  of  me,  one  or  the  other.  I 
don't  want  to  hear  anything  more  about  her." 

"  Yes,"  thought  Miss  Herbert,  turning  away.  "  It  is  evi 
dent  the  poor  creature's  mad  ;  and  yet  there  seems  a  '  method 
in  her  madness.'  I  do  wonder  who  she  is,  and  how  she  came 
to  be  placed  in  that  singular  position." 

From  that  period  until  the  G went  into  Sierra  Leone, 

where  Miss  Herbert  was  put  on  board  a  vessel  bound  to  New 
Orleans,  the  "White  Lady  of  Annabon"  was  a  frequent  sub 
ject  of  joke  and  jest  amongst  the  officers  ;  it  was  noticed  that 
young  Miller  did  not  like  to  jest  upon  the  subject,  and  for  that 
very  reason  he  had  to  bear  still  more  frequently  the  rude  jokes 
of  his  companions. 

He  wrote  home  to  his  mother  and  uncle  from  Sierra  Leone, 
saying  nothing,  however,  to  the  former  with  regard  to  his 
adventure  at  Annabon  ;  but  in  his  letter  to  his  uncle  he  men 
tioned  the  visit  to  the  island,  and  spoke  of  a  very  beautiful  girl 
who  had  lately  been  discovered  to  be  living  there,  who  he  said, 
jokingly,  had  set  half  the  captains  and  officers  on  the  station 
crazy. 

Let  us  now  shift  the  scene  for  a  few  moments  before  we 
wind  up  this  present  chapter,  and  return  to  the  other  side  of 
the  Atlantic. 

Seymour  having  sold  his  cargo  and  settled  his  affairs,  left  his 
ship  in  Bahia,  to  which  place  he  had  sailed  from  Aracati,  and 
paid  a  visit  to  Mr.  Mordant  in  New  York.  There  he  remained 
for  a  considerable  time,  mingling  as  usual  in  the  gayeties  of  the 
city — still,  as  ever,  the  admiration  of  the  ladies  and  the  envy 
of  the  beaux.  At  length  the  time  arrived  for  him  to  leave  for 
the  purpose  of  rejoining  the  Albatross.  He  was  to  start  on 
another  voyage  to  the  coast  of  Africa,  and  he  was  busily 
engaged  settling  affairs  relative  to  the  voyage  with  the  mer 
chant,  for  a  day  or  two  previous  to  his  departure.  On  the 
last  day  of  his  stay,  while  he  was  actually  closeted  with  the 
merchant,  a  packet  of  letters,  which  had  just  arrived  from 
Sierra  Leone,  were  brought  in  by  a  servant.  One  by  one  Mr. 
Mordant  took  them  and  read  them.  At  length  he  lighted 
upon  the  one  from  his  nephew. 

11  Ha  !"  he  exclaimed,  "  a  letter  from  my  nephew  Tom.     By- 


189 

the-by,  Seymour,  I  did  not  tell  you.     My  nephew,  Thomas 

Miller,  has  got  a  midshipman's  berth  on  board  the  G , 

and  they  have  sent  the  boy  to  the  coast.  Let's  see  what  the 
youngster  says  :"  and  Mr.  Mordant  read  the  letter.  He 
laughed  when  he  came  to  the  account  of  the  recluse  of  Anna- 
bou,  and  read  the  paragraph  aloud  to  Seymour,  saying  when 
he  had  finished  it,  "  Have  you  ever  heard  of  or  seen  this  para 
gon  of  perfection,  Seymour  ?" 

"  No,"   said   the   latter,    abruptly.     He   had   started   and 
clenched  his  teeth  and  knit  his  brows,  while  Mr.  Mordant  had 
been  reading  ;  but  the  merchant  had  not  observed  him.     Now, 
however,  he  noticed  that  he  looked  pale. 
"  You  are  unwell  Seymour  ?"  said  he. 

"I  don't  feel  very  well  ;  the  room  is  too  warm.  I  will  wish 
you  good  morning,  Mr.  Mordant  ;  the  air  will  revive  me  ;  I 
have  a  slight  headache  ;"  and  shaking  the  merchant's  hand  he 
left  the  house. 

"  D— — -tion.  Ten  thousand  curses  on  the  meddling  fools  !'; 
he  exclaimed,  hissing  the  words  through  his  teeth,  as  he 
walked  towards  his  lodgings.  "So  they  have  found  my  nest, 
have  they.  Let  them  beware  how  they  meddle  with  it.  Now, 
I  must  indeed  be  off  to  sea  immediately." 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

Junot's  diabolical  Vengeance — A  Pampero  disables  the  Slaver,  which  is 
captured  by  a  Cruiser,  and  Junot  and  his  crew  are  carried  to  Sierra 
Leone  to  take  their  Trial. 

"  Now  would  I  give  a  thousand  furlongs  of  sea  for  one  acre  of  barren  ground.    Long 
heath — brown  furze — any  thing  !" — Tempest. 

"  BY  Gar,  we  have  taught  dem  a  lesson  dey  shall  not  easily 
forget.  Go  aloft,  Senor  Paez,  and  see  if  you  shall  perceive  de 
dam  cruiser.  It  shall  soon  be  dark,  and  I  should  like  to  be 
sure  dey  is  out  of  sight  before  de  night  closes  in." 

"  Si,  Senor.  Dialolo !  but  the  Englishman  found  he  had 
caught  a  Tartar,"  was  the  reply  of  the  person  addressed  as 
Senor  Paez,  as  he  took  a  spy-glass  from  the  brackets  in  the 
companion  way,  and  went  hastily  aloft. 

"On  deck  there,"  shouted  he ;  "I  think,  Senor  Capitano,  I 
c;in  just  make  out  the  line  of  the  cruiser's  top-masts,  but  I  am 


190  THE    CABIN    BOY'S    STORY. 

not  sure.  I  fancy  she  is  so  thoroughly  crippled  that  we  have 
little  to  fear  from  her.  Another  half  hour  and  we  shall  be  out 
of  sight  altogether." 

"  Bon  !  c'est  bon  ca  !  mais  diable!  it  was  a  narrow  chance, 
though.  Descendez  vous ;  come  down,  Senor  Paez.  I  think 
we  need  be  under  no  further  alarm." 

The  officer  thus  addressed  came  down  from  aloft  and  joined 
his  superior  on  the  quarter  deck. 

The  above  conversation  was  carried  on  on  board  the  Dolphiu, 
after  the  lucky  escape  of  that  vessel  from  her  captors,  related 
in  a  preceding  chapter.  The  reader  is  already  aware  that  the 
officers  and  crew  of  the  Dolphin  comprised  men  of  almost  every 
nation,  and  though  the  orders  relating  to  the  navigation  of  the 
vessel  were  generally  given  in  English,  a  running  fire  of  sen 
tences  and  expletives,  alternately  given  in  French,  English, 
and  Spanish,  characterized  the  usual  conversation  of  the  crew, 
insomuch  that  a  stranger,  suddenly  finding  himself  on  board 
the  slaver,  would  have  been  under  the  impression  that  the 
owners  had  manned  and  officered  the  vessel  from  the  Tower  of 
Babel. 

It  was  a  fine  starlight  night  ;  all  possible  sail  was  set,  and 
studding  sails  spread  alow  and  aloft,  for  the  wind  had  veered 
around  to  the  eastward,  and  was  blowing  a  fine  six  knot  breeze, 
and  Captain  Junot  and  his  contremaistre  were  in  high  spirits  at 
having  escaped  so  fortunately  from  under  the  guns  of  the  maii- 
oi  war. 

"  What  is  your  pleasure,  Senor,  with  regard  to  those  devils 
the  Englishman  put  on  board  as  a  prize  crew  ?"  asked  Paez  of 
the  captain. 

"Ah!  diable.  I  had  forgotten  them.  Bring  the  dogs  up 
from  the  hold.  How  many  of  our  crew  are  hurt  ?" 

"  Two  were  killed  by  the  English  sailors,  while  endeavoring 
to  seize  and  overpower  them,  and  one  more  severely  hurt." 

"Ha!  who  are  they?" 

"  Peters  and  Bruneau  are  killed,  and  the  negro  Quashy  will 
hardly  live  till  daylight  in  the  morning." 

"  Three  of  our  best  men,"  said  the  captain.  "  Go,  fetch  th-» 
dogs  up,  and  I  will  interrogate  them,"  he  added  savagely,  aod 
the  mate  retired  to  obey  the  order. 

Captain  Junot  stood  leaning  against  the  railing  of  the  quar 
ter  deck,  gazing  savagely,  and  still  with  an  air  of  exultation, 
upon  the  water,  as  it  seemed  to  flash  with  phosphorescent  light 
past  the  vessel. 


191 

In  a  few  minutes  the  contremaistrc  reappeared  up  the  hatch 
way,  accompanied  by  two  seamen  as  ferocious  looking  as  him 
self,  and  followed  by  the  master's  mate  and  the  six  English 
sailors,  pale  and  weak  from  the  loss  of  blood  from  the  severe 
wounds  they  had  received  in  the  struggle  that  had  been  made 
to  overpower  them,  their  faces  and  clothing  stained  with  the 
sanguinary  tide,  and  so  heavily  ironed  that  it  was  with  diffi 
culty  they  could  drag  their  limbs  along  to  the  quarter  deck. 

As  they  emerged,  one  by  one,  from  the  hatchway,  savage 
and  sinister  glances  were  cast  upon  them  by  a  score  of  villainous 
countenances,  and  as  they  passed  the  booby  hatch,  upon  which, 
covered  over  with  canvas,  lay  the  bodies  of  the  dead  pirates, 
several  harsh  voices  hoarsely  muttered,  "  Blood  for  blood. 
The  plank,  the  plank!  Throw  the  cursed  hounds  overboard  to 
the  sharks!" 

It  seemed  doubtful,  even,  whether  they  would  reach  the 
quarter  deck,  without  the  vengeance  of  the  savage  crew  antici 
pating  the  judgment  of  their  no  less  savage  commander.  Des 
perate  wretches  clustered  round  them,  and  the  glitter  of  knives 
could  be  discerned  amidst  the  semi-darkness,  for  the  brief  twi 
light  of  the  tropics  had  already  almost  flitted  away,  and  the 
stars  which  had  for  the  previous  half  hour  faintly  shone  in  the 
clear  sky,  now  sparkled  brilliantly  in  the  dark  azure  vault  of 
heaven — but  Paez,  who  was  a  man  of  gigantic  stature  and  of 
immense  physical  power,  dealt  severe  blows  with  his  fist  upon 
those  who  approached  nearest,  and  the  men  held  back,  mutter 
ing  dark  and  deadly  curses  between  their  teeth. 

"Back  with  ye,  men — back,  I  say!  If  another  offers  to  in 
terfere  with  the  course  of  justice,  by  the  holy  Virgin,  I'll  send 
him  to  h — 1  before  his  time.  You  shall  have  justice,  men,  and 
Peters  and  Bruneau  shall  be  revenged  ;  but  it  must  be  meted 
out  formally  by  the  captain.  Here  are  the  prisoners,''  added 
Paez,  addressing  the  captain. 

Captain  Junot  looked  up  from  the  water  and  glanced  at  the 
captives^  his  small  bloodshot  eyes,  gleaming  like  coals  of  fire 
from  beneath  his  heavy,  ragged,  grizzled  eyebrows.  There  was 
a  demoniacal  ferocity  in  his  steady  gaze,  which  foretold  the 
doom  of  the  wretched  prisoners  before  he  spoke.  Their  blood 
ran  chill  with  horror;  but  they  endeavored  to  bear  themselves 
bravely,  and  to  maintain  an  appearance  of  outward  composure 
— though  one  or  two  of  them  were  so  exhausted  with  loss  of 
blood  that  they  reeled  like  drunken  men  as  they  stood  before 
their  savage  captor. 


192  THE    CABIN    BOY'S    STORY. 

''You  are  the  officer  of  the  party,  I  see  by  your  attire  ?" 
said  the  captain,  after  he  had  silently  gazed  at  the  prisoners  for 
some  moments,  addressing  the  master's  mate,  whose  name  was 
Richards. 

"  I  am,"  replied  the  young  man. 

"  What  death  do  you  deserve  to  die,  dog,  for  having  caused 
the  death  of  two  of  my  best  hands  ?" 

"  The  men  were  killed  by  us  in  self-defence  and  in  the  fulfil 
ment  of  our  duty,"  boldly  replied  the  officer. 

"  Ha  !  so  you  think,  perhaps  ;  but  men  entertain  different 
ideas  of  duty.  What  was  it  to  you  or  your  cursed  captain, 
that  we  were  engaged  in  the  slave  trade  ?  What  right  have 
you  to  make  or  meddle  with  us  ?" 

"The  right  that  justice  and  humanity  bestows,"  replied  the 
young  man. 

'  JBah !  Don't  talk  to  me  of  justice  and  humanity.  You 
shall  have  justice  meted  out  to  you  shortly.  As  to  humanity, 
it  is  only  fool's  talk.  Two  of  you  must  die,  to  revenge  the 
death  of  two  men  of  my  crew  who  have  fallen  by  your  hands, 
and  if  the  negro  Quashy  dies,  so  surely  shall  another  of  you  suffer 
death;  but  on  one  condition  I  will  save  your  life,  as  the  officer 
of  the  party.  Inform  me  of  every  particular  relative  to  the 
number  and  strength  of  the  cruisers,  English  and  American, 
that  are  upon  the  coast." 

"  I  will  accept  of  no  conditions  from  you  or  such  as  you," 
said  the  officer  boldly,  though  his  heart  shrunk  within  him  as 
he  spoke,  for  he  was  a  young  man  of  scarcely  twenty  years  of 
age,  and  life  was  dear  to  him,  and  his  future  career  brilliant 
with  the  high  hopes  and  anticipations  of  youth;  but,  he  felt 
that  he  had  his  duty  to  perform  as  an  officer  and  an  example 
to  show  his  unfortunate  companions — he  felt  that  to  accept 
conditions  for  his  life  from  a  pirate,  would  be  to  tarnish  his 
honor  forever,  and  then  that  death  were  preferable. 

"  Hound,  do  you  dare  to  taunt  me  thus,"  said  the  captain 
savagely,  and  he  stepped  forward  and  struck  the  youth  across 
the  mouth  with  the  hilt  of  his  cutlass,  "  take  that,  and  learn 
to  keep  a  civil  tongue  in  your  head." 

A  murmur  of  savage  applause  was  heard  from  the  lips  of 
the  seamen  who  were  looking  on,  as  they  witnessed  this  brutal 
act  of  the  captain's. 

"Strip  off  the  fellow's  jacket  and  search  his  pockets  ;  per 
haps  he  has  papers  or  letters  with  him  that  may  be  of  service," 
said  Captain  Junot,  whose  passion  was  now  roused  to  demoni 
acal  fury. 


THE    CABIN    BOY'S    STORY.  193 

A  couple  of  seamen  threw  themselves  upon  the  unfortunate 
youth  and  bore  him  to  the  deck  ;  his  jacket  was  stripped  off 
and  searched,  but  nothing  was  found. 

A  locket  suspended  from  his  neck,  which  had  hitherto  been 
concealed  by  his  vest,  attracted  the  attention  of  the  captain. 
"  What  is  that  ?"  said  he.  "  Pull  it  off."  It  was  done,  and 
the  locked  containing  a  lock  of  hair  and  the  portrait  of  a  dark- 
blue  eyed  girl,  was  given  into  the  monster's  hands  by  his  ready 
satellites. 

"  Ha!  ha!  a  pretty  piece  of  goods.  I  wish  I  had  her  here," 
exclaimed  the  captain,  and  then  throwing  the  trinket  upon  the 
deck  he  crushed  it  beneath  the  heel  of  his  heavy  sea  boot. 

"  Now,  dog  of  an  Englishman,  will  you  sue  for  your  life  ?" 
demanded  the  brutal  pirate  chief,  compelling  the  youth  to  rise 
to  his  feet. 

"  Never,"  responded  the  young  officer. 

"  Then  take  that,"  exclaimed  the  captain,  dealing  a  heavy 
blow  with  the  edge  of  his  cutlass,  which  he  had  drawn  from 
the  scabbard,  upon  the  unprotected  head  of  the  youth  ! 

The  blade  sunk  deep  into  the  skull  of  the  unhappy  captive, 
cleaving  it  in  twain;  there  was  a  groan  of  mortal  agony,  a  hor 
rible  crushing  sound,  and  the  dead  body  fell  heavily  to  the  deck, 
amidst  the  pool  of  blood  which  had  gushed  in  torrents  from  the 
frightful  wound. 

*'  Heave  the  carrion  overboard,"  said  the  captain,  and  the 
order  was  promptly  obeyed. 

"  Now,  dogs  that  you  are,  you  see  what  justice  I  deal  out," 
said  the  captain,  whom  the  sight  of  blood  appeared  to  have 
driven  to  insanity.  "  Mark  the  sign  of  the  cross  upon  your 
foreheads  with  that  blood,  and  swear  to  embrace  our  trade, 
and  your  lives  shall  be  spared,  all  but  two — two  must  die  to 
avenge  the  deaths  of  my  own  men;  but  for  that  you  shall  cast 
lots.  What  say  you  ?" 

"  Never,"  feebly  responded  the  unhappy  men,  for  they  were 
sick  with  horror  at  the  sight  they  had  witnessed. 

"  Your  blood  be  upon  your  own  hands,  then,"  exclaimed  the 
Captain — and  the  men  who  had  gradually  crowded  closer  and 
closer  upon  the  quarter  deck,  murmured  in  harsh,  savage 
voices,  "  blood  for  blood." 

"  Sailmaker,"  shouted  Captain  Junot,  "  arc  the  dead  men's 
hammocks  ready  and  shotted  ?" 

"  All  ready,  sir,"  responded  the  sailmakcr — a  Portuguese 
seaman  whose  complexion  was  bronzed  to  the  color  of  a  negro, 

9 


194  THE  CABIN  BOY's  STORY. 

"Then,  Senor  Paez,  take  two  of  these  men  and  place  them 
back  to  back  with  the  dead  bodies  of  Peters  and  Bruneau,  and 
sew  them  up  in  the  hammocks,  and  when  you  are  ready  throw 
them  overboard — and  carpenter  (shouting  to  that  functionary) 
rig  the  plank — the  other  four  shall  walk  overboard.  Ma  foi ! 
but  the  sharks  shall  have  a  feast  to-night." 

Two  of  the  unfortunate  seamen,  unable  to  offer  any  resis 
tance,  were  seized  by  the  wretches  of  pirates  and  bound  back 
to  back — living  men  with  the  corpses  of  the  dead — and  the 
hammocks  being  sewed  around  them,  heavily  shotted,  they 
were  laid,  struggling  with  mortal  terror,  near  the  gangway. 

The  "plank,"  meanwhile,  had  been  rigged  by  the  carpenter 
and  his  willing  assistants.  It  was  a  smooth  piece  of  board, 
about  eight  feet  long,  which  was  accurately  balanced  and 
secured  by  a  tackle  across  the  gangway.  A  weight  of  about 
a  hundred  pounds  was  fastened  to  the  end  which  hung  in- board  ; 
so  that  until  the  weight  of  a  man's  body  approached  the  out 
ward  extremity,  it  would  not  top  over.  This  plank  was  raised 
by  some  of  the  crew,  and  the  two  hammocks,  with  their  dead 
and  living  freight,  were  launched  from  it  into  the  deep.  Pale 
with  horror,  the  unhappy  remnant  of  the  captives  witnessed 
this  frightful  scene,  and  stood  silently  awaiting  their  turn,  for 
they  felt  that  any  appeal  for  mercy  from  the  demons  in  human 
form  by  whom  they  were  surrounded,  would  be  in  vain  ;  but 
the  scene  of  hellish  horror  was  not  yet  ended ;  it  needed  yet 
some  further  embellishment  of  Pandemoniacal  cruelty. 

"  Bring  Quash y  from  his  hammock,"  shouted  the  captain, 
and  the  negro,  his  usually  black  complexion  changed  to  a  sickly 
yellow — frightful  to  look  upon,  and  his  features  distorted  with 
pain,  was  brought  up  and  supported  by  two  of  his  negro  mess 
mates  in  a  position  to  view  the  tragedy  that  was  being 
enacted. 

"  Now,  men,"  said  Captain  Junot,  addressing  his  brutal 
crew,  "  and  you,  too,  Quashy  ;  see  how  I  avenge  any  injury 
offered  to  you.  Peters  and  Bruneau  have  been  revenged, 
Quashy  ;  these  others  die  to  satisfy  your  vengeance.  Draw 
out  two  boarding-pikes"  (addressing  two  seamen  who  stood 
near  him). 

The  sharp  instruments  were  brought  from  the  row  which 
glittered  in  the  bracket  around  the  mainmast. 

"  And  now,  dogs,"  said  the  captain  to  the  hapless  seamen, 
"  walk  that  plank.  What  !  you  won't.  Then  drive  them  with 
the  pikes,"  added  the  captain  to  the  two  seamen  who  held  the 


THE  CABIN  BOY  S  STORY.  195 

weapons  in  their  hands  ;  and  the  sharp  points  of  the  pikes  were 
applied  to  the  backs  of  the  wretched,  hapless  captives,  until 
they  shrieked  with  agony,  while  the  blood  coursed  in  streams 
from  the  wounds.  Goaded  to  desperation,  the  half-maddened 
seamen — to  whom  a  speedy  death  was  now  the  greatest  mercy 
— stepped  upon  the  fatal  plank,  and  walked  to  the  opposite 
end  ;  it  tilted  with  their  weight,  and  in  another  moment, 
amidst  the  shouts,  and  taunts,  and  jeers  of  the  demon  crew, 
they  were  lurched  into  the  yielding  waters  ;  the  irons  fastened 
to  their  legs  bore  them  down,  the  waters  closed  above  them, 
and  the  ship  passed  on  ;  and  the  stars  shone  forth  as  clearly, 
and  the  water  sparkled  as  brilliantly  with  the  phosphorescent 
light  as  though  no  such  deed  of  horror  had  happened. 

"  Get  water  and  wash  these  stains  of  blood  from  the  deck," 
said  the  captain  ;  but  the  contremaistre  directed  his  attention 
to  the  negro/  who  had  been  torn  from  his  hammock  to  witness 
the  consummation  of  the  foul  tragedy.  He  was  dead  in  the 
arms  of  his  supporters. 

"  Throw  him  overboard  with  the  rest,"  said  the  captain, 
laughing  brutally,  "he  is  only  a  negro,  after  all,  and  he  has 
been  revenged." 

And  the  body  of  Quashy  plashed  into  the  water  and  floated 
past,  bobbing  up  and  down  in  the  wake  of  the  vessel,  for  no 
shot  had  been  fastened  to  him. 

A  murmur  of  disapprobation  arose  from  the  negro  portion 
of  the  crew  ;  but  they  comprised  a  minority  and  were  held  in 
subjection  by  the  rest,  and  they  were  soon  quieted.- 

Captain  Junot  descended  to  his  cabin  with  the  air  of  a  man 
who  had  carried  out  a  decree  of  justice.  Thus  were  the  fears 
of  Captain  Trainer,  of  the  Rapid,  verified,  and  the  expecta 
tions  of  Captain  P ,  that  the  slaver  captain  would  not  dare 

to  treat  the  captives  with  cruelty,  proved  faulty.  Few  men 
can  conceive  the  condition  of  utter  callousness  to  human  suffer 
ing  that  the  hearts  of  those  engaged  in  the  slave  trade  are 
inured  to. 

It  was  the  contremaistre's  watch  on  deck,  and  Captain  Junot, 
having  descended  to  his  cabin  after  the  enaction  of  the  horrid 
cruelties  we  have  described,  poured  out  a  tumbler  half  full  of 
brandy,  and  drinking  it  off  at  a  draught,  threw  himself  upon  a 
sofa  and  was  soon  in  a  heavy  slumber,  which  continued  until 
the  watch  was  relieved  at  midnight 

But  a  change  of  scene  had  taken  place  overhead,  although 
no  symptom  of  the  change  was  apparent  in  the  cabin,  save  that 


196  THE  CABIN  BOYS  STORY. 

the  sound  of  the  water  was  no  longer  heard  plashing  against 
the  sides  as  the  ship  gallantly  ploughed  her  path  through  the 
yielding  element.  All  was  hushed,  silent,  ominously  still,  and 
although  the  stern  windows  of  the  cabin  were  open,  the  heat 
was  oppressive,  and  almost  stifling,  for  no  longer  the  cooling 
breeze  rushed  in  from  the  ocean.  The  captain  glanced  out  of 
the  cabin  windows,  and  then  seemed  to  awaken  to  the  presence 
of  some  approaching  evil.  With  an  oath  upon  his  lips  he 
rushed  upon  deck.  The  vessel  was  lying  motionless  upon  the 
water;  her  sails  flapping  heavily  and  lazily  against  the  mast, 
but  none  of  them  taken  in.  The  stars  which  had  beamed  so 
brightly  from  the  dark  azure  canopy  of  heaven  upon  the  late 
scene  of  blood  and  horror,  had  vanished,  and  the  sky  was  as 
dark  as  pitch;  a  lead-colored  haze,  so  dense  as  to  seem  almost 
palpable,  pervaded  the  atmosphere,  and  the  ocean  had  lost  its 
late  phosphorescent  brilliancy,  and  became  dark  and  turgid. 
The  watch  had  been  relieved  before  the  change  had  occurred, 
although  it  was  not  yet  a  quarter  of  an  hour  past  midnight  ; 
but  in  these  latitudes  the  changes  come  on  suddenly  ;  the 
mate  in  charge  of  the  deck — who  had  never  before  visited  the 
coast,  having  been  shipped  in  Havana  on  a  recommendation 
from  a  slave  merchant,  on  account  of  his  reckless  ferocity  (he 
had  for  some  years  pursued  the  career  of  a  pirate  in  the  Greek 
Archipelago) — had  failed  to  take  warning  by  the  change — 
while  the  crew,  stretched  here  and  there  about  the  decks, 
under  the  lee  of  the  bulwarks,  soundly  sleeping,  or  listlessly 
lounging  over  the  railing  of  the  vessel,  were  gazing  carelessly 
and  thoughtlessly  into  the  dark  water. 

"Moil  Dieu!  Sacre  mille  tonne-res;  mais  nous  aurons -un 
veritable  pampero  /"  exclaimed  Captain  Junot,  and  cursing  the 
apathy  of  the  officer  in  charge,  he  ordered  that  all  hands 
should  be  called  immediately,  and  sail  taken  in  as  rapidly  as 
possible. 

The  pamperos,  or  hurricanes  peculiar  to  the  coast  of  Africa, 
like  the  typhoons  of  the  East  Indies,  come  on  suddenly,  only 
giving  warning  by  the  wind  dying  away  and  the  sky  and  the 
sea  assuming  an  ashy  hue,  while  the  atmosphere  becomes  op 
pressive  in  the  extreme.  This  ominous  calm  is  the  precursor 
of  torrents  of  rain,  followed  by  terrific  squalls  of  wind,  accom 
panied  by  thunder  and  lightning  of  the  most  startling  and 
vivid  description.  It  is  customary  in  such  cases,  when  there  is 
plenty  of  sea  room,  to  take  in  all  possible  sail,  and  allow  the 
ship  to  run  directly  before  the  gale,  which  sometimes  lasts  but 


THE    CABIN    BOY'S    STORY.  197 

an  hour  or  two  ;  although,  when  the  pampero  is  of  unusual 
violence,  it  endures  for  as  many  days. 

There  was  still  hope  that  before  the  rain  came  on  there 
might  be  time  to  clew  up  the  sails,  and  all  hands  were  now 
fully  aroused  to  the  critical  nature  of  their  position.  The  ne 
gro  boys  were  ordered  aloft  to  furl  the  royals  and  take  in  the 
topgallant  studding  sails,  the  topgallant  sails  were  clewed  up, 
and  the  topsail  halyards  let  go  by  the  run,  preparatory  to  being 
furled ;  when  a  strange  rushing  sound,  like  that  of  a  cataract 
that  had  been  dammed  up,  suddenly  broken  loose,  and  precipi 
tated  with  resistless  fury  over  a  valley  beneath,  was  heard  to 
the  northwestward;  then  came  a  vivid  flash  of  lightning,  and 
a  peal  of  deafening  thunder,  and  the  cry  arose  from  a  score  of 
voices  at  once,  "  The  pampero — the  pampero  is  upon  us!" 

The  order  was  given  to  put  the  vessel  before  the  wind,  which 
was  expected  to  come  from  the  quarter  whence  the  sound  of 
the  approaching  rain  and  the  first  peal  of  thunder  had  been 
heard ;  but  the  ship  was  too  much  encumbered  with  sail,  and 
the  wind,  almost  as  soon  as  the  first  heavy  rain-drops  pattered 
upon  the  deck,  burst  upon  them  with  such  violence  that  it  was 
found  impracticable  to  obey  the  order.  The  ship  would  not 
answer  her  helm,  the  waves  rose  as  rapidly  as  the  wind,  and 
the  vessel  was  thrown  into  the  trough  of  the  sea. 

"  Aloft  there!  you  lazy,  lubberly,  black  rascals — bear  a  hand 
and  furl  those  royals,"  shouted  the  captain,  through  his  speak 
ing  trumpet.  "  Hurry,  men,  hurry — roll  up  the  sails — cut,  cut 
them  adrift  with  your  knives  if  you  cannot  furl  them,"  he 
added,  his  voice  rising  to  a  shrill  shriek,  as  he  repeated  his 
orders — the  danger  becoming  every  moment  more  imminent ; 
but  his  shouts  were  unheard — had  they  been  heard  they  would 
have  been  alike  unheeded  ;  for  the  men  were  blinded  and 
bewildered  by  the  rain  driven  horizontally  by  the  force  of  the 
wind,  and  cutting  the  flesh  like  hail,  and  by  the  quickly  suc 
ceeding  flashes  of  blue  lightning  which  illumined  the  midnight 
darkness,  as  if  the  glare  of  a  thousand  torches  had  suddenly 
gleamed  from  the  dark  sky,  disclosing  the  laboring  vessel, 
struggling  like  a  living  thing  in  mortal  agony,  amidst  a  sea  of 
foam,  and  rendering  the  succeeding  darkness  blacker  still,  and 
more  terrific.  And  now  the  peals  of  thunder  rolled  almost 
continuously  over  the  heads  of  the  bewildered  and  frightened 
seamen,  louder  than  the  roar  of  a  thousand  parks  of  artillery — • 
so  loud,  so  deafening,  that  even  the  wind  for  the  moment 
seemed  to  lull  as  if  its  fury  was  appalled  and  controlled 


198  THE    CABIN    BOY'S    STORY. 

by  the  terrific  concussion  of  the  atmosphere  above.  In  one 
of  these  lulls  a  sharp  crackling  sound  was  heard  aloft  ;  and 
a  cry,  as  of  some  one  shrieking  in  mortal  terror.  A  bright 
flash  of  lightning  lit  up  the  scene,  and  those  on  deck  cast  their 
eyes  aloft.  Black  forms  were  seen  clinging  with  all  their  might 
to  the  yards  and  rigging,  for  those  who  had  gone  aloft,  in  obe 
dience  to  the  order  of  the  captain,  to  furl  the  sails,  had  not 
only  found  themselves  powerless  to  effect  this,  but  were  pre 
vented  by  the  presence  of  the  wind  from  descending  to  the  deck 
— and  on  they  clung  to  their  treacherous,  precarious  tenure 
with  a  clutch  like  that  of  drowning  men  ;  but  whence  that 
cry  ?  The  vessel  had  rolled  heavily  over  to  windward  during 
the  temporary  lull,,  and  in  again  making  a  corresponding  lurch 
to  leeward,  the  shroud  that  supported  the  top-gallant  and 
royal  masts,  snapped  like  whip  cord,  and  the  masts  themselves, 
no  longer  able  to  bear  the  force  of  the  wind,  splintered  and 
rocked  to  and  fro,  and  at  last,  with  a  sudden  crash,  snapped 
asunder,  and  fell  over,  dangling  backwards  and  forwards  in 
mid  air — hanging  by  the  lee  rigging.  Some  of  the  hapless 
wretches  who  had  so  long  clung  helplessly  to  this  frail  tenure 
were  at  once  precipitated  into  the  boiling  ocean,  falling  in  the 
darkness,  and  amid  the  wild  confusion  of  the  elements,  unseen, 
unheard,  unheeded  by  their  comrades  below.  Others  still 
clunjj  with  the  energy  of  despair  to  the  dangling  wreck ;  but 
they  could  not  long  retain  their  hold ;  some  were  crushed 
between  the  masts  and  yards,  as  the  spars  swung  to  and  fro ; 
others  were  shaken  off — even  the  desperate  strength  lent  them 
by  despair,  no  longer  enabling  their  numbed  and  paralyzed 
fingers  to  retain  their  hold  ;  they,  too,  fell  one  by  one  into  the 
seething,  foaming  ocean  caldron  beneath  ;  some  unseen  amid 
the  blackness  of  the  night  ;  the  dark  falling  figures  of  others 
recognized  for  a  moment  in  the  lightning's  red  unearthly  glare ; 
but  the  situation  of  those  on  deck  was  too  dangerous  for  them 
to  take  heed  of  the  peril  of  their  shipmates.  They  were  not 
men  to  trouble  themselves  at  any  time  about  the  distress  or 
agony  of  others  ;  least  of  all  now,  when  they  stood  clinging  to 
the  bulwarks  in  momentary  dread  of  being  themselves  swept 
from  the  deck  by  some  mighty  wave.  A  mortal  dread  seized 
the  minds  of  all,  for  when  death  threatened  them  face  to  face, 
the  evils  of  a  misspent  life,  darkened  by  deeds  of  savage 
cruelty,  such  as  the  wild  beasts  of  the  forest  wot  not  of — such 
as  are  only  conceived  in  the  brains  of  savage  men,  rushed  to 
their  memory  and  completely  unnerved  them  ;  there  were  some 


THE    CABIN     BOY'S    STORY.  199 

wlio  thought  that  the  cruelties  the  evening  of  that  fearful  night 
had  witnessed  had  brought  upon  them  this  judgment — that  the 
blood  of  the  murdered  seamen  had  called  for  vengeance  and 
aroused  to  fury  the  spirit  of  the  storm — they  fancied  they  heard 
unearthly  bowlings,  and  gibberings,  and  chatterings  in  the  air, 
mingling  with  the  noise  of  the  tempest,  and  believed  these 
sounds  to  issue  from  the  spirits  of  the  murdered,  laughing  at 
the  doom  which  seemed  to  await  the  murderers. 

Yet,  were  they  not  all  alike,  even  in  their  terror.  Some 
clung  to  the  bulwarks  or  lashed  themselves  to  the  stancheons, 
and  awaited  with  sullen  gloom  their  apparant  fate.  Others 
wept  and  prayed,  and'swore,  and  groaned  in  the  agony  of  mortal 
terror  ;  others  were  rife  in  promises  of  amendment  ;  and  some 
who,  now  in  their  fright,  believed  firmly  in  the  efficacy  of 
mediation  with  the  Being  they  scorned  to  acknowledge  in  their 
pride  and  prosperity,  made  vows  and  promised  gifts  to  their 
patron  saints  and  to  the  Holy  Virgin,  if  only  this  once  they 
were  delivered  from  peril.  Amongst  these  last  was  the  contre- 
maistre,  who  loudly  promised  to  purchase  half  a  dozen  of  the 
biggest  wax  candles  he  could  procure,  and  place  them  before 
the  altar  of  the  chapel  of  the  Virgin  in  his  native  town  at 
Sugova,  in  Spain,  if  he  were  allowed  once  again  to  set  his  feet 
on  dry  land. 

More  heavily  still  the  ship  labored  in  the  trough  of  the  sea  ; 
her  planks  were  strained  to  a  degree  that  rendered  it  certain 
that  she  must  be  leaking  fast,  yet  none  dared  venture  to  sound 
the  pumps.  And  now  the  sea  began  to  pour  over  the  deck, 
sweeping  away  the  boats,  and  tearing  away  the  bulwarks  as 
though  the  tough  oak  plank  were  pasteboard.  And  at  every 
sweep  some  victim  was  carried  oif  into  the  boiling  sea,  his 
wild  shriek  of  despair  mingling  with  the  howling  of  the  wind  and 
the  roar  of  the  thunder. 

And  now  a  (lash  of  red  and  blue  lightning,  so  vivid  that  it 
seemed  to  sear  the  eyeballs,  and  scorch  out  the  eyesight  of  all 
who  witnessed  it,  struck  the  de^k  amidships,  near  the  chain- 
locker,  and  passed,  hissing  along  the  wet  chain-cable,  and  deal 
ing  death  to  all  with  whom  it  came  in  contact,  escaped  by  the 
hawse-holes.  The  flash  was  followed  immediately  by  a  clap  of 
thunder,  which  seemed  to  burst  forth  from  the  verge  of  the 
horizon  to  windward,  and  to  pass  immediately  over  the  vessel, 
increasing  in  loudness  as  it  drew  near,  crashing  and  rolling  and 
crashing  again,  as  it  passed  away  to  leeward,  with  a  sound  as 
if  the  mountains  of  the  earth  were  rent  asunder  by  a  thousand 


200  THE  CABIN  BOY  S  STORY. 

explosions,  and  the  fragments  dashed  in  wild  confusion  one 
against  the  other.  The  wind  was  stilled  ;  even  the  sea  wan 
calmed  with  the  terrible  concussion,  and  the  ship  trembled  in 
every  plank.  All  thought  that  their  hour  was  come.  For  a 
moment  their  prayers  and  tears,  and  groans  and  promises  were 
hushed;  their  eyes  were  blinded  with  the  lightning,  yet  they 
seemed  to  gaze  upon  each  other  in  blank,  mute  despair.  The 
idea  that  now  all  was  over  seemed  to  flash  through  the 
brains  of  the  survivors  of  that  lately  numerous,  reckless  and 
savage  crew,  but  the  silence  was  but  for  a  moment — 

"  Then  rose  from  sea  to  sky  the  wild  farewell, 

Then  shrieked  the  timid  and  stood  still  the  brave, 
While  some  leaped  overboard,  with  dreadful  yell, 
As  eager  to  anticipate  the  grave." 

The  words  of  the  poet  were  literally  fulfilled,  for  that  night 
of  terror  had  driven  some  to  madness,  and  half  a  dozen  of  the 
crew  leaped  into  the  sea,  while  the  distant  roar  of  the  awful 
thunder  peal,  still  faintly  heard,  sounded  their  requiem,  and 
rushing  waters  joined  with  the  howling  winds  in  dismal  chorus. 
The  boldest  now  waited  in  momentary  expectation  of  the  ves 
sel  foundering  ;  but  they  were  spared.  The  storm  had  spent 
its  fury,  and  the  discordant  elements  seemed  to  have  exhausted 
themselves  in  that  last  fearful  shock;  the  wind  lulled — the  sea 
gradually  went  down,  and  the  Dolphin,  a  mere  wreck  of  her 
former  pride  and  beauty,  still  floated  in  safety  upon  the  trou 
bled  waters.  Of  the  crew  of  fifty  men  but  seventeen  remained; 
the  rest  had  been  washed  from  the  decks  or  had  fallen  over 
board  from  aloft.  The  carpenter  sounded  the  pump-well ;  the 
ship  was  stout  and  strong;  notwithstanding  the  wrenching  her 
planks  had  sustained,  there  were  only  eighteen  inches  of  water 
in  the  hold  ;  this  leak  could  be  easily  kept  under.  Hope  re 
vived  within  the  breast  of  the  captain  and  the  remnant  of  the 
crew.  They  would  yet  reach  Cuba  in  safety.  But  the  slaves 
— the  miserable  wretches  cooped  up  in  the  hold  throughout  the 
storm — how  had  they  fared  while  the  ship  had  been  tossed  like 
a  child's  toy  upon  the  waters  ?  As  soon  as  the  necessary  work 
had  been  done  to  enable  the  half  disabled  vessel  to  proceed  on 
her  course — as  soon  as  the  wreck  aloft  had  been  cleared  away, 
the  torn  sails  unbent  and  replaced  by  fresh  ones,  and  the  ves 
sel  pumped  dry,  Captain  Junot  thought  of  the  living  freight 
below,  upon  the  safety  and  health  of  whom  the  success  of  Ms 
voyage  depended. 


THE    CABIN    BOY'S    STORY.  201 

The  hatches  were  removed,  and  Paez,  accompanied  by  two 
other  seamen,  descended  to  the  spar  deck.  God  1  what  an 
awful  sight  met  their  view.  The  storm  had  done  its  work 
upon  the  unhappy  negroes  ;  the  retribution  which  had  fallen 
upon  the  guilty  seamen  had  involved  destruction  to  their  hap 
less  victims.  As  is  too  often  the  case  in  this  world,  the  inno 
cent  had  suffered  with  the  guilty.  The  staples  by  which  the 
negroes  were  bound  to  the  deck  had  given  way,  and  they  had 
been  tumbled  violently  one  against  the  other,  pell-mell,  in 
dreadful  confusion.  The  breath  had  been  crushed  out  of  some 
of  the  more  weakly — they  had  died  of  suffocation  ;  the  limbs 
of  others  were  broken ;  and  again,  others,  especially  the  child 
ren,  had  fallen  victims  to  the  foul  and  confined  air  they  had 
been  compelled  to  breathe — for  the  hatches  had  been  securely 
battened  down  and  covered  tightly  with  tarpaulins,  so  that  a 
breath  of  fresh  air  could  not  enter  the  closely  packed  hold. 
The  stench  that  arose  when  the  hatches  were  lifted  was  insup 
portable  ;  even  the  brutal  and  practised  Paez  recoiled  from  it  ; 
until,  by  admission  of  the  fresh  breeze,  the  hold  had  become  in 
some  measure  purified.  Then  he  set  to  work  to  count  the 
number  of  the  dead,  the  dying,  and  the  helplessly  maimed. 
Thirty  were  hoisted  upon  deck  dead  and  disfigured  ;  ten 
others,  who  still  breathed,  but  who  were  evidently  drawing 
their  last  breath,  were  added  to  the  list,  and  twelve  had  their 
legs  and  arms  broken  so  as  to  render  them  useless.  These,  too, 
were  hoisted  upon  deck  and  examined  by  the  captain.  Fifty- 
two  in  all.  So  much  loss  on  the  profits  of  the  voyage!  With 
a  fearful  oath  Captain  Junot  ordered  them  to  be  thrown  over 
board — the  dead,  the  dying,  and  the  maimed  together.  In 
vain  were  the  shrieks,  the  cries  of  agony  of  the  wretched  be 
ings,  as  they  implored  for  mercy  ;  their  appeals  only  called 
forth  brutal  jests  and  curses  from  the  crew,  and  Paez  was  so 
irritated  at  the  loss  that  he  swore  that  he  wouldn't  give  the 
Virgin  the  candles  he  had  promised  her.  Still  there  were 
hopes  that  two  hundred  slaves  might  be  landed  in  Cuba. 

Another  vessel  had  ridden  out  the  gale  in  company  with  the 
Dolphin,  although  she  had  been  too  far  distant  for  either  to 
see  the  other — and  she  had  not  suffered  as  the  Dolphin  had  : 
for  proper  precautions  had  been  taken  ;  her  sails  had  been 
furled  in  time,  and  she  had  been  "  hove  to,"  under  her  storm 
jib  and  mizen  staysail.  As  day  began  to  break,  the  captain  of 
this  vessel — the  Buzzard,  British  sloop-of-war — had  ordered 
more  sail  to  be  set,  and  the  vessel  proceeded  on  her  course. 


202 

"  It  lias  been  an  awfully  rough  night,  master,"  said  the  cap 
tain,  addressing  that  officer;  "I  am  used  to  the  coast,  and  I 
don't  know  when  I  have  experienced  a  more  severe  pampero. 
I  pity  the  fate  of  those  who  have  been  caught  in  it,  at  the 
outset,  unawares." 

"  Most  of  the  traders  here  are  accustomed  to  look  out  for 
these  hurricanes,"  was  the  reply  of  the  master. 

"  Sail  ho-o-o!"  shouted  the  look-out  man,  from  aloft. 

"  Where  away  ?"  shouted  the  master,  in  reply. 

"  Dead  to  leeward,  sir  ;  she  has  nothing  but  her  topmasts 
standing,  and  appears  to  be  disabled." 

"Take  the  spyglass  aloft,  master,"  said  the  captain,  "and 
see  what  you  can  make  of  her  ;-  see  if  she  shows  any  signals  ; 
whether  or  not,  if  she  is  disabled,  we  will  bear  down  towards 
her." 

The  sea  was  running  high,  and  the  master  started  aloft,  and 
looked  in  the  direction  pointed  out  by  the  seaman. 

"  What  do  you  make  her  out  to  be,  master  ?"  shouted  the 
captain. 

"  A  merchantman  in  distress,  I  rather  think,  sir  ;  she  has 
carried  away  her  top-gallant  masts  in  the  gale  of  last  night, 
most  likely,  and  the  crew  are  bending  new  sails.  She  is  close 
to,  and  you  might  see  her  easily  from  the  deck,  if  the  sea  were 
to  go  down  a  little  more,  or  if  her  top-gallant  masts  were 
a-taunto." 

"We  will  bear  down  and  see  if  she  wants  aid,"  said  the 
captain  ;  and  he  ordered  the  yards  to  be  squared,  and  the 
course  to  be  altered  directly  for  the  stranger. 

In  less  than  half  an  hour  she  was  distinctly  visible  from  the 
deck,  still  rolling  heavily  in  the  trough  of  the  sea,  for  want  of 
sufficient  sail. 

On  the  other  hand,  the  captain  of  the  Dolphin — for,  as  the 
reader  will  have  surmised,  it  was  she  that  had  been  discovered 
in  her  crippled  state  by  the  sloop-of-war — had  seen  the  Buz 
zard  bearing  down  towards  him,  and  had  made  her  out  to  be 
a  ship-of-war.  He  cursed,  and  stormed,  and  raved,  and  tore 
his  hair  in  his  frantic  rage. 

"  Another  of  those  cursed  cruisers,"  said  he  ;  "  they  swarm 
thick  as  bees.  Oh  I  that  1  had  power  to  annihilate  them  and 
sink  them  to  h — 1." 

"  What's  to  be  done  now,  Senor?"  asked  the  contremaistre. 
"We  shall  be  overhauled,  that's  certain,  and  if  we  are  caught 
with  these  negroes  on  board  " — 


THE    CABIN    BOY'S    STORY.  203 

"  The  ship  will  be  taken  as  a  prize,"  interrupted  the  cap 
tain,  "  and  we  shall  be  hanged  as  pirates,  for  if  we  are  taken 
into  port,  the  dead  will  rise  up  against  us.  We  shall  have  to 
account  for  the  prize  crew  of  the  brig-of-war. 

"  The  negroes  must  go  overboard.  It  is  a  pity — an  infernal 
pity.  We  shall  make  a  ruinous  voyage  altogether — nothing 
but  bad  luck  from  beginning  to  end,"  said  the  contre- 
maistre. 

"  It  must  be  so,"  answered  Juuot.  "  There  is  no  help  for 
it.  It  is  their  lives  or  ours — but — I'll  be  revenged  yet." 

The  danger  was  imminent.  The  man-of-war  was  not  a  mile 
distant.  She  would  soon  be  within  hail,  and  then  all  would  be 
lost.  Without  another  word  the  contremaistre  descended  with 
a  dozen  of  the  crew  into  hold.  Shot  were  fastened  to  the 
feet  of  the  miserable  victims,  and  they  were  rapidly  passed  out 
of  the  port  holes  to  leeward,  so  that  the  work  of  death  going 
on  should  not  be  observed  by  those  on  board  the  sloop-of-war. 
Of  all  the  negroes  that  less  than  twenty-four  hours  before  filled 
the  spar  deck,  but  two  were  retained.  These  were  the  t-yo 
negro  children  alceady  spoken  of  as  belonging  to  the  Yunga 
Jagos  woman,  who  had  escaped  from  the  Albatross  and  been 
carried  to  Liberia  by  the  Firefly,  by  the  crew  of  which  vessel, 
the  reader  will  recollect  she  was  rescued.  These  children  Cap 
tain  Junot  had  taken  a  fancy  to  ;  they  were  quite  young,  and 
were  handed  up  to  him,  fast  asleep,  by  the  mate  and  placed  by 
the  captain  in  his  own  state-room  berth,  where  he  thought 
they  would  be  safe  from  the  observation  of  the  officers  of  the 
man-of-war,  even  if  they  should  insist  on  searching  his  vessel. 

The  man-of-war  was  within  hail — "What  ship  is  that  ?"  asked 
the  captain,  through  his  trumpet. 

"The  French  ship  Bienfaisant,  from  Dominique,  bound  to 
the  coast  for  ivory,"  replied  Captain  Junot.  "  We  have  been 
crippled  in  the  gale  last  night." 

"Do  you  want  any  assistance?"  asked  the  captain  of  the 
sloop-of-war. 

"  No,  I  thank  you  ;  we  shall  do  very  well.  We  shall  run 
before  the  wind  until  our  repairs  are  completed,  and  then  we 
shall  shape  our  course  for  the  Coast  again." 

"  I  wish  you  success  and  better  luck  in  future,"  said  the  cap 
tain  of  the  man-of-war  ;  and  so  saying,  he  waved  farewell  with 
his  trumpet  and  gave  orders  for  the  sails  to  be  trimmed,  and 
the  course  to  be  changed. 

"  That's  fortunate,"  said  Captain  Junot,  as  he  saw  the  man- 


204          THE  CABIN  BOY'S  STORY. 

of-war  making  preparations  to  stand  on  her  proper  course, 
"  Oh,  what  a  cursed  fool  I  was  to  throw  those  negroes  over 
board." 

But  the  slaver  captain  had  reckoned  without  his  host.  A 
lieutenant  advanced  to  the  captain  of  the  sloop-of-war,  and 
said  : — 

"  I  am  greatly  mistaken,  sir,  if  that  vessel  is  not  a  slaver.  I 
could  almost  swear  to  having  chased  her  upwards  of  a  twelve 
month  ago.  If  she  be  the  vessel  I  expect  she  is,  one  of  the  most 
desperate  fellows  that  ever  lived  commands  her — a  Frenchman 
of  the  name  of  Junot." 

"  Ha  !  say  you  so,  Mr.  Howard,"  said  the  captain.  "  In 
that  case  we  may  as  well  send  a  boat  on  board  ;  but  unless 
we  have  proof  that  she  has  slaves  on  board  we  can't  search 
her.  The  vessel  you  speak  of  sails,  I  believe,  under  American 
colors."  . 

"  She  does,  sir  ;  but  she  may  have  slaves  now  on  board." 

"  Ten  thousand  curses  on  them  ;  they  are  going  to  board  us 
after  all,  said  Junot,  as  he  saw  the  mainyard  of  the  sloop-of- 
war  thrown  aback,  and  a  boat  lowered  ;  but  let  them  come. 
Sacre  tonnere  !  they  can  find  nothing." 

In  a  few  moments  the  boat  was  alongside,  and  the  lieutenant 
already  spoken  of,  ascended  to  the  deck. 

"  I  should  like  to  see  your  papers,"  said  he  to  the  captain, 
significantly. 

"  You  shall  see  them,"  said  Junot  (he  carried  false  papers 
already  prepared),  and  these  he  showed  the  officer.  They 
answered  the  description  he  had  given  of  his  vessel  when  he 
had  first  been  hailed. 

The  officer  looked  disappointed  and  was  preparing  to  return 
to  his  ship,  when  a  man  rushed  out  from  the  forecastle,  and 
begged  the  officer  to  remove  him  from  the  ship.  "Hang  me 
at  the  yard  arm,  if  you  will,"  said  the  man;  "  do  what  you  will 
with  me,  but  remove  me  hence.  This  vessel  is  a  slaver — a  pi 
rate.  I  have  served  in  many  a  slaver  ;  I  have  become  accus 
tomed  to  scenes  of  bloodshed ;  but  on  board  this  craft  I  have 
seen  sights  which  have  chilled  my  blood  with  horror.  Seven 
of  your  countrymen  have  been  murdered  by  that  man  (pointing 
to  the  captain)  within  the  last  twenty-four  hours,  and  not  half 
an  hour  since  two  hundred  negroes  were  cast  overboard.  The 
Dolphin  is  a  hell  afloat,  and  Captain  Junot  is  worse  than  the 
devil.  If  you  want  more  proof — if  you  won't  believe  my  word 
— search  the  cabin;  two  negro  children — all  that  are  left — are 


205 

concealed  there.  But  don't  leave  me  here,"  and  the  man 
shuddered  with  horror  and  affright. 

"The  Dolphin!  Captain  Junot!  eh?"  said  the  officer  ;  "  as 
I  suspected.  I  have  long  sought  to  make  your  acquaintance, 
Captain  Junot.  With  your  leave,  I'll  proceed  to  search  the 
vessel.  You  (addressing  the  sailor)  can  go  at  once  into  the 
boat,  my  man." 

"  You  shall  suffer  for  this,"  said  Junot,  vindictively.  "  You 
have  no  right  to  search  my  ship." 

"  Never  mind,  my  good  fellow,  we  shall  see.  I  shall  at  any 
rate  secure  you  on  the  charge  of  murder.  I  hope  you  will  be 
able  to  prove  your  innocence." 

Seeing  that  remonstrance  was  useless,  and  knowing  that 
under  the  guns  of  the  sloop-of-war  force  would  be  equally  so, 
Captain  Junot  resolved  to  submit  with  the  best  grace  he  could. 
He  trusted  to  the  silence,  for  their  own  sakcs,  of  the  rest  of 
the  crew,  and  hoped  that  the  evidence  of  the  witness  would  be 
disbelieved,  and  that  he.  himself  would  not  be  recognized.  He 
had  got  clear  of  many  awkward  scrapes  through  the  good 
friend  to  whom  the  recusant  sailor  had  aptly  compared  him. 
He  hoped  to  get  clear  of  this,  though  he  felt  that  things  looked 
awkward  enough  just  now. 

The  two  children  were  found  in  the  cabin,  and  were  sent  on 
board  the  man-of-war,  and  the  boat  returning  with  the  officer, 
a  strong  prize  crew  was  sent  on  board  the  slaver.  Captain 
Junot  and  his  crew  were  carried  on  board  the  sloop-of-war  and 
put  in  irons,  to  await  their  trial  at  Sierra  Leone,  whither  the 
captain  of  the  man-of-war  determined  at  once  to  proceed. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

Seymour  revisits  Annabon,  and  finds  an  unwelcome  visitor 

CAPTAIN  SEYMOUR  experienced  strange  sensations  of  vague 
alarm  at  hearing  of  the  invasion  of  the  solitudes  of  Annabon. 
The  very  day  after  he  had  received  the  intelligence  conveyed 
to  Mr.  Mordant  in  his  nephew's  letter,  he  set  sail  in  the 
steamer  which  happened  to  be  leaving  at  that  time  for  St. 
Thomas,  and  thence  he  proceeded  to  the  Brazils.  Arrived  at 
Bahia,  he  found  the  Albatross  refitted  and  ready  for  sea  ;  and 
taking  his  stores  on  board  immediately,  he  cleared  out  the  fol- 


206  THE    CABIN    BOY'S    STORY. 

lowing  day  with  Brazilian  papers,  and  sailed  on  his  voyage, 
his  destination  being  to  the  same  port  in  Loango,  whence  he 
had  in  two  previous  voyages  received  his  cargo  of  human  flesh. 

But  Captain  Seymour  had  other  ends  in  view  besides  the 
mere  prosecution  of  a  slaving  voyage,  on  this  occasion,  the  ob 
ject  of  which  will  be  in  due  time  developed.  He  had  left 
America  in  consequence  of  the  news  he  had  received  some 
weeks  previously  to  his  original  intention,  for  he  did  not  expect 
that  his  agents  at  Majumba,  and  Quaddah,  and  other  noted 
slave  depots,  would  have  a  cargo  ready  for  him  so  early  as  the 
period  at  which  he  now  expected  to  arrive.  Consequently,  he 
resolved  to  sail  to  the  northern  and  principal  harbor  on  the 
island  of  Annabon,  and  leaving  his  vessel  there,  to  proceed  to 
the  abode  of  Zuleika,  and  perhaps  remain  there  a  week  or  two, 
as  circumstances  might  decide,  before  he  again  sailed  for  Ma 
jumba. 

Nothing  worthy  of  note  occurred  during  the  passage  across 
the  Atlantic,  and  in  five  weeks  after  leaving  Bahia,  the  Alba 
tross — -the  captain  first  reconnoitering  to  ascertain  that  the 
coast  was  clear— -came  to  anchor  off  the  only  port  in  Annabon. 

Leaving  instructions  with  Mr.  Tolcroft  to  be  on  his  guard 
against  surprise,  on  the  coast — for,  although  there  was  no  danger 
of  capture  to  be  apprehended,  under  the  present  circumstances, 
the  Albatross  having,  already  observed,  a  regular  clearance 
from  a  Brazilian  port — still  Seymour  had  no  desire  that  his 
arrival  on  the  coast  should  be  known  to  the  captains  of  the 
British  and  American  cruisers,  and  suspicions  thus  raised 
which  might  lead  to  unpleasant  results  ;  for  he  knew,  al 
though  personally  unknown  to  any  of  the  officers  of  the  men- 
of-war,  that  both  his  ship  and  himself  were  notorious  for  their 
success  in  conducting  the  nefarious  traffic  in  which  he  had  been 
for  some  years  engaged,  and  that  the  Albatross  would  be  con 
sidered  a  glorious  prize. 

Once  more  the  pinnace  was  manned,  and  Captain  Seymour 
set  sail  for  the  secluded  abode  of  his  lovely  and  youthful  bride. 
Two  days  afterwards  he  sighted  the  bluff  point  which  concealed 
the  little  inlet  on  which  was  situated  Zuleika's  cottage.  To 
his  surprise  and  annoyance,  a  small  schooner,  such  as  the  Por 
tuguese  employ  in  the  gold  dust  and  ivory  trade,  was  lying  at 
anchor  off  the  little  harbor.  A  glance,  however,  told  him  that 
the  vessel  was  no  man-of-war,  and  he  boldly  sailed  in,  passing 
close  under  the  counter  of  the  schooner  which  he  hailed  in 
Portuguese,  asking  her  name  and  whence  she  came. 


THE    CABIN    BOY'S    STORY.  207 

"  The  Dom  Pablo,  from  Lisbon,"  was  the  reply. 

"  And  whither  are  you  bound  ?  " 

"  To  the  Coast  for  ivory  and  gold  dust." 

"  Then  what  the  d 1  do  you  do  here  ?"  was  Seymour's 

muttered  reply  ;  but  he  hailed  the  vessel  again — 

"  Is  the  Senor  Capitano  on  board  ?" 

"  No,  senhor  ;  he  is  ashore  at  the  cottage  yonder." 

"  D tiou  !"  muttered  Seymour,  as  he  hauled  aft  the  sheet 

of  the  pinnace's  mainsail  and  placed  her  head  in  the  direction 
of  the  landing-place. 

"  What  boat  is  that  ?"  was  asked  from  on  board  the 
schooner. 

"We  came  from  the  Brazilian  brig  Esperanza,  which  is  lying 
at  anchor  on  the  other  side  of  the  island." 

"  Whither  are  you  bound  ?" 

"  To  the  Coast,  as  you  are.  We  have  come  here  to  endea 
vor  to  procure  dyewoods  for  ballast,"  and  thus  endeavoring  to 
deceive  the  contremaistre  of  the  schooner,  Seymour  sailed 
towards  the  creek,  and  in  a  few  minutes  stepped  on  shore. 

He  had  noticed  that  the  white  flag  was  not  flying  from  the 
flagstaff  on  the  hill — and  so  far  he  was  satisfied.  He  did  not 
wish  that  Zuleika  should  as  yet  be  aware  that  he  was  so  near 
her.  He  was  somewhat  undecided  Jiow  to  act,  but  at  length 
he  resolved  to  await  on  shore  the  return  of  the  Portuguese 
captain  from  the  visit  he  presumed  he  was  paying  at  the  cot 
tage.  Two  or  three  seamen  belonging  to  the  schooner  were 
rambling  about  on  the  beach,  and  having  first  cautioned  his 
own  crew  to  maintain  a  strict  incognito  (he  could  trust  the 
men,  for  the  crew  of  the  pinnace  were  all  picked  hands),  he 
entered  into  careless  conversation  with  them,  and  learnt  that 
their  captain  had  come  from  the  Coast,  where  strange  reports 
were  afloat  respecting  the  extreme  beauty  of  the  White  Lady, 
or  the  Recluse  of  Annabou,  as  Zuleika  was  called,  and  being  a 
young  man — trading  in  his  own  vessel — his  curiosity  had  been 
awakened,  and  he  had  resolved  to  visit  the  island  and  ascertain 
if  the  reports  were  true. 

"  And  diabolo  /"  continued  his  informant,  "  our  young  captain 
finds  enough  to  amuse  himself  with  here.  He  has  been  here  a 
week  already,  and  seems  in  no  hurry  to  sail.  Chanzas  aparte," 
(joking  apart)  added  the  sailor,  speaking  in  Spanish,  for  Sey 
mour  spoke  Portuguese  but  indifferently.  "I  fancy  he  is  in 
love  with  the  lady." 

Seymour  bit  his  lips  to  conceal  his  rising  cholcr.     He  felt 


208  THE  CABIN  BOY's  STORY. 

inclined  to  strike  the  unsuspecting  seaman  to  the  earth  ;  but  he 
restrained  himself  with  a  violent  effort  and  asked  :  "  And  you 
Amego  mio — have  you  seen  the  lady  ?" 

"  No,  Diabolo  !  our  captain  keeps  the  sight  of  the  treasure 
to  himself — Entiende,  Senor.  I  am  half  inclined  to  think  he 
means  to  run  off  with  the  Senor  a  ;  but  here  he  comes.  A  los 
pies  es  V.,  Senor  Capitano,  I  must  go  down  to  the  boat." 

Seymour  advanced  to  meet  the  captain  of  the  schooner,  who 
was  a  handsome  young  Portuguese.  He  extended  his  hand  to 
Seymour — and  addressed  him  in  Portuguese,  taking  him  at 
once  to  be  the  captain,  probably,  of  some  trader  like  that  which 
he  himself  commanded.  Noticing  from  the  accent  of  Seymour 
that  he  understood  Portuguese  but  indifferently,  he  then  contin 
ued  the  conversation  in  Spanish,  asking  him  whence  he  came 
and  what  had  led  him  to  pay  a  visit  to  the  island. 

Seymour  replied  as  he  had  done  to  the  contremaistre,  and  the 
young  Portuguese  told  him  frankly  that  he  had  come  to  the 
wrong  side  of  the  island  for  dye-woods. 

"  Confess/'  said  he,  laughingly,  "it  is  to  see  the  fair  recluse 
of  this  island  you  have  come." 

"  And  if  I  have." 

"  Caramba !  If  you  have  ?  Do  not  look  so  savage,  Senor. 
If  you  have,  you  will  see,  by-and-bye,  a  fairy  that  would  set 
the  hearts  of  half  the  caballeros  in  Madrid,  or  Lisbon  either,  in 
a  flame." 

Seymour  still  managed  to  control  the  rising  choler  which 
was  well  nigh  overpowering  him.  He  felt  the  mingled  sensa 
tions  of  jealousy,  doubt,  fear,  and  the  desire  of  vengeance,  rising 
in  his  breast  and  almost  stifling  him  ;  but  he  wished  to  know 
more  ;  he  wished  to  be  satisfied  of  the  faith  of  Zuleika,  and  to 
ascertain  whether  the  careless  words  uttered  by  the  sailor  had 
any  foundation  in  truth. 

"  Come,"  said  the  young  Portuguese,  "  it  is  growing  late, 
Senor.  Let  us  pay  a  visit  together  to  the  fair  Senora  to-mor 
row — and  to-day  you  will  come  on  board  and  dine  with  me. 
Come,  I  will  take  no  denial.  I  want  some  one  to  bear  me  com 
pany — and  I  will  describe  to  you  this  island  enchantress." 

"  One  would  think,"  said  Seymour,  forcing  himself  to  speak 
in  a  jocular  tone,  in  spite  of  the  rage  that  was  smouldering  in 
his  bosom,  "  One  would  think  you  were  in  high  favor  with  this 
Senora,  whoever  she  be." 

"  Car amla !  no,"  said  the  young  man,-  gaily.  "  The  lady  is 
an  icicle.  Lovely  as  one  of  Canova's,  or  Raphael's  ideals,  and 


THE    CABIN    BOY7S    STORY.  209 

as  cold  and  passionless.  I  have  visited  her  every  day  for  a 
week,  and  have  wasted  my  time  for  naught.  She  is  civil- 
nothing  more  ;  but  the  Portuguese  have  a  proverb,  '  an  icicle 
may  be  thawed  with  the  warmth  of  a  rushlight.'  There  is 
nothing  like  perseverance  in  these  matters.  But  you  will  come 
on  board  and  dine,  and  to-morrow  we  will  visit  together  this 
Penelope,  who  is  so  faithful  to  her  absent  Ulysses.  You  have 
read  Teleniaque,  Capitano.  Diabolo  !  I  wish  I  were  the  happy 
man.  But  I  have  a  plan  in  my  head,  which  I  will  relate  to 
you  after  dinner." 

Seymour  breathed  free  again.  How  could  he  for  a  moment 
have  doubted  the  purity  and  faith  of  Zuleika.  "  Yes,"  he 
thought,  "  I  will  go  on  board  and  dine  with  this  gay  young 
caballero — and  hear  his  plan,  as  he  calls  it.  I,  too,  have  a  plan 
in  my  head,  he  little  wots  of." 

He  accepted  Captain  De  Silva's  invitation  (Do  Silva  was 
the  name  of  the  young  Portuguese),  and  went  on  board  the 
schooner  with  him — again  cautioning  his  own  crew  to  maintain 
perfect  secrecy. 

As  he  left  the  shore  with  his  newly  found  companion,  he  cast 
a  long,  lingering  glance  in  the  direction  of  Zuleika's  abode. 
He  could  scarcely  restrain  his  impatience  at  this  delay;  "  but," 
he  thought,  "  it  is  better  thus  :  I  shall  see  you  to-morrow,  Zu 
leika — and  alone.  And  after  that — '' 


CHxVPTER  XX. 

The  Sinking-  of  the  Portuguese  Schooner — Zuleika  Departs  from  the 
Island  of  Annabon — The  Destruction  of  the  Cottage  by  Fire. 

SHE  was  a  long,  low  schooner,  the  Dom  Pablo,  beautifully 
moulded,  with  lofty,  graceful,  raking  masts,  leaning  so  far  back, 
indeed,  that  a  plumb  line  dropped  from  the  main-top-mast  head, 
would  have  cleared  the  taffrail.  She  was  painted  black — black 
all  over — hull  and  masts  all  of  the  same  sombre  color,  except  that 
the  former  was  relieved  by  a  narrow  ribbon-like  gilded  streak,  and 
as  she  moved  gracefully  upon  the  gently  heaving  billows  of  the 
bay,  the  brilliant  gleam  of  her  copper  bottom — for  she  was 
coppered  quite  up  to  the  water-line — glittered  in  the  rays  of 
the  sun  and  reflected  in  the  clear  water.  She  might  readily 


210  THE    CABIN    BOY'S    STORY. 

have  been  taken  for  a  pirate  craft — the  Dom  Pablo — for  5- JIG 
was  just  one  of  those  beautifully  modelled,  sneaking,  serpent-like 
looking  crafts  that  honest  merchantmen  like  to  give  a  wide 
berth  to,  when  they  happen  to  descry  them  hanging  close  un 
der  the  land,  or  bearing  down  suspiciously  towards  them  just 
towards  nightfall,  and  she  carried  six  brightly  polished,  four 
pound  brass  carronades,  which  shone  like  burnished  gold — and 
one  of  those  large,  long  guns,  amid-ships,  turning  upon  a  swivel, 
familiarly  called,  in  sea  parlance,  a  Long  Tom;  she  sailed  like  a 
witch.  If  her  captain  wanted  to  speak  a  vessel  he  happened 
to  sight,  he  was  down  upon  her  like  a  flash  of  lightning — and 
many  a  worthy  skipper's  heart  leaped  to  his  mouth,  and  many 
a  peaceful  passenger  wished  himself  on  shore,  or  any  where 
else  but  where  he  was,  as  he  run  to  and  fro,  by  the  captain's 
advice,  trying  the  often  resorted  to,  but  childish  game,  of  ma 
king  the  suspicious-looking  stranger  believe  that  the  said  pas 
senger  was  multiplied  into  half  a  dozen  men,  as  his  head 
bobbed  up  and  down  in  half  a  dozen  different  places — a  scheme 
which  only  serves  to  amuse  the  knowing  ones — and  many  an 
old  rusty  gun  had  been  bowsed  out  of  the  hold  when  the  Dom 
Pablo  hove  in  sight,  and  clumsily  placed  on  its  decrepit  and 
worm-eaten  stand,  which  it  was  a  mercy  was  not  fired,  for  ten 
to  one,  but  it  would  have  exploded  and  wounded  or  killed  half 
of  the  crew  who  brought  it  up  from  its  damp  resting-place  for 
their  protection  ;  but  there  was  really  no  harm  in  the  Dom  Pa 
blo,  nor  in  her  captain,  Dom  Sebastian  De  Silva.  The  latter 
was  as  gallant  and  gay  a  young  caballero  as  ever  flaunted  in 
the  streets  of  Lisbon,  or  trod  the  deck  of  a  vessel.  A  hand 
some,  good  humored  fellow,  conscious  of  his  good  looks  and 
proud  of  them  ;  a  little  given  to  foppery  and  dandyism,  as 
might  be  seen  by  his  wearing,  as  nearly  as  he  dared  do,  the 
uniform  of  an  officer  in  the  Portuguese  navy  ;  but  this  was  ex 
cusable,  since  he  was  no  poltroon,  with  all  his  foppery,  and  he 
had  plenty  of  means  to  support  it.  He  was  the  son  of  a  weal 
thy  merchant  in  Lisbon,  who  traded  largely  with  the  natives  of 
the  African  coast  for  gold  dust  and  ivory,  and  the  young  Se 
bastian  being  of  an  adventurous  turn,  and  fond  of  the  excite 
ment  of  sea  life,  had  made  several  voyages  in  his  father's  ves 
sels,  and  at  length,  on  the  day  he  had  attained  his  majority, 
had  received  a  present  of  the  beautiful  craft  he  now  com 
manded. 

The  heavy  armament,  that,  for  so  small  a  vessel,  the  Dom 
Pablo  carried,  was  partly  for  the  purpose  of  protection  against 


211 

the  sometimes  treacherous  attacks  of  the  natives  on  the  coast, 
and  partly  to  serve  the  purpose  of  frightening,  and  of  fighting 
too,  if  need  were,  any  similar  craft,  the  employment  of  whose 
crew  was  less  honorable.  Besides  Captain  De  Silva  chose  to 
have  everything  handsome  and  warlike  about  his  bonny  little 
vessel,  and  he  took  as  much  pride  in  her  personal  appearance, 
as  he  could  possibly  have  done  in  that  of  his  wife  or  his  mistress, 
had  he  possessed  either.  But  Captain  De  Silva's  heart  had 
never  hitherto  been  severely  wounded  by  the  arrows  of  Cupid, 
though  several  times  stray  darts  had  glanced  upon  it  and 
pierced  it  slightly,  shot  from  the  black  eyes  of  the  Portuguese 
sen/ioritas  ;  but  a  short  voyage  had  been  sufficient  to  heal  these 
slight  abrasions,  and  before  the  captain  had  been  three  weeks 
upon  blue  water,  his  heart  had,  hitherto,  become  as  sound  as  ever. 
The  Dom  Pablo  was  sufficiently  profitable  to  afford  abundant 
means  to  meet  the  expenses  of  Dom  Sebastian,  although  the 
old  merchant,  his  father,  would  certainly  not  have  found  her 
so  creditably  mentioned  in  figures  upon  his  ledger,  as  any  of 
the  other  less  elegant  vessels  in  his  service  ;  for  Senhor  Sebas 
tian  sometimes  took  a  whim  into  his  head  to  make  flying  visits 
to  various  places,  to  see  which  his  cariosity  had  been  excited, 
altogher  heedless  of  the  real  object  of  his  voyage — and  it  was 
on  one  of  these  visits  that  he  and  his  ship  were  fallen  in  with 
by  Captain  Seymour. 

Senhor  De  Silva  had  been  boarded  by  the  Alacrity — Captain 
Hall's  ship — the  British  craft  fancying  her  to  be  what,  as  we 
have  observed,  many  other  persons  feared  her  to  be — a  pirati 
cal  craft — and  he  had  not  only  found  out  his  mistake,  but  he 
had  found  the  Senhor  to  be  such  a  capital,  jovial  fellow,  and  his 
vessel  so  well  provided  with  luxuries  not  easily  attainable  on 
board  cruisers  that  have  been  a  long  time  on  a  station,  that  he 
had  spent  some  time  on  board  the  Dom  Pablo,  and  had  dined 
with  the  captain,  and  learning  his  position  from  him  in  the 
course  of  conversation  (for  among  other  accomplishments 
Senhor  Sebastian  spoke  tolerably  good  English),  he  had  related 
to  him  his  adventure  on  the  island  of  Annabon,  and  laughingly 
advised  him  to  pay  a  visit  to  its  lonely  and  mysterious  inhabi 
tant. 

Captain  De  Silva  did  not  need  pressing — it  was  just  the  sort 
of  adventure  to  seize  hold  of  his  imagination,  and  although  he 
was  at  the  time  close  to  the  port  whither  he  was  bound,  and 
sailing  before  the  wind  towards  it,  he  braced  his  yards  sharp  up 
directly  and  beat  back  again  to  the  island.  As  he  had  informed 


212 

Captain  Seymour,  he  had  been  there  a  week,  and  had  every 
day,  for  several  hours  in  the  day,  paid  his  court  to  the  fair  re 
cluse.  To  tell  the  truth,  the  inconstant  affections  of  Senhor 
Sebastian  had  been  fixed,  from  the  first  moment  he  had  gazed 
upon  the  lovely  countenance  and  the  fairy,  sylph-like  figure  of 
Zuleika  ;  and  though  he  had,  in  the  first  instance,  intended  to 
make  but  a  passing  visit,  he  had  found  himself  bound  to  the 
spot  by  some  resistless  fascination.  Consequently  his  crew  had 
been  keeping  holiday,  roaming  about  amongst  the  romantic 
woods  and  glades  that  abounded  on  the  island,  or  bathing  in 
the  cool  shady  inlets,  or  making  up  parties  and  going  on  fish 
ing  or  shooting  excursions.  In  fact,  enjoying  a  season  of  re 
creation,  such  as  seldom  falls  to  the  lot  of  poor  Jack  ;  while 
their  captain,  dressed  to  the  very  best  advantage,  was  assidu 
ously  prosecuting  his  suit  toward  the  enchantress,  who  had  in 
nocently  and  unsuspectingly  entrapped  him.  Of  course  this 
was  very  pleasant  and  agreeable  to  the  crew,  but  very  tantaliz 
ing  and  riot  very  profitable  to  the  captain. 

He  had  never  yet  been  able  to  discover  who  his  inamorata 
was,  or  how  she  came  to  be  on  the  island, or  whence  she  had  come, 
or  in  fact  anything  about  her  ;  and  the  more  he  was  tantalized 
in  this  fashion,  still  the  more  was  he  fascinated  with  his  myste 
rious  charmer.  He  had  tried  to  bribe  the  negroes — he  had 
tried  to  cajole  the  youth  who  bore  her  company  (Jane  Miller), 
but  he  had  failed  in  learning  anything.  Zuleika,  simple  unsus 
pecting,  unsophisticated  child,  as  she  was,  might  have  been  be 
guiled  into  making  some  satisfactory  explanation;  but  she  had 
been  well  schooled  by  Jane,  and  the  negroes  had  been  warned, 
on  pain  of  their  mistress's  and  Captain  Seymour's  displeasure, 
to  maintain  inviolable  secrecy,  and  they  had  not  betrayed 
their  trust.  At  the  expiration  of  a  whole  week  Captain  De 
Silva  was  as  wise  as  ever  and  no  wiser.  He  saw  that  Zu 
leika  wore  a  plain  gold  ring  on  the  third  finger  of  her  hand, 
(warning  symbol!)  but  he  disregarded  it.  He  could  not  learn 
who  the  husband  was  that  the  ring  typified,  and  he  persuaded 
himself  that  it  was  merely  worn  by  the  innocent  girl  as  a  pretty 
ornament. 

Thus  stood  matters  when  Captain  Seymour  arrived  to  inter 
rupt  the  gallant  Scnhor's  wooing;  but  we  will  let  him  further 
explain  his  story  in  his  own  words. 

Seymour  stepped  into  the  boat  and  went  on  board  the  Dom 
Pablo,  with  I)e  Silva,  He  was  startled  when  he  set  his  feet 
upon  the  decks.  He  thought  the  Albatross  a  model  of  a  ves- 


THE    CABIN    BOY'S    STORY.  213 

Rel — so  undoubtedly  she  was;  but  the  Dom  Pablo  was  like  a 
fairy  craft  ;  so  bright,  so  clean,  so  neatly  was  everything  ar 
ranged  ;  and  her  deck  !  why,  the  most  fastidious  exquisite 
might  have  sat  down  and  eaten  his  meals  from  off  of  that  deck, 
it  was  so  white,  so  pure  from  soil  or  stain,  and  in  the  cabin 
everything  was  arranged  with  a  degree  of  refined  taste  that 
equally  threw  the  Albatross  into  the  shade.  The  dinner,  too, 
was  a  capital  one,  (Captain  De  Silva  had  not  forgotten  to  bring 
a  good  cook  with  him,)  and  the  wines  were  excellent — they 
must  have  been  some  of  the  choice  wines  from  the  elder  De 
Silva's  cellar  in  Lisbon — so  ripe,  so  rich,  so  exquisite  in  flavor 
they  were.  The  cabin  was  furnished  with  sofas,  and  pistols 
and  fowling  pieces  were  suspended  from  the  sides  in  a  variety 
of  designs,  and  glittering  like  silver  and  gold  in  their  bright 
polish.  These  were  singular  ornaments,  but  Seymour  could  but 
acknowledge  in  reply  to  the  question  of  De  Silva,  that  they 
were  really  appropriate.  Little  was  said  during  dinner  ;  but 
when  the  steward  had  removed  the  cloth  and  placed  a  fresh 
supply  of  wine  upon  the  table,  and  a  variety  of  fruits  and  de 
licious  preserves  fresh  from  Portugal,  and  De  Silva  had  pro 
duced  a  box  of  superb  Manillas,  the  conversation  turned  natu 
rally  enough  upon  the  lady  of  the  isle. 

De  Silva  related  the  manner  in  which  he  had  become  aware 
of  the  existence  of  this  mysterious,  fairy-like  inhabitant  of 
Annabon. 

"  I  resolved,"  said  he,  "  as  soon  as  I  heard  the  story  from  the 
lips  of  the  Englishman,  to  pay  a  visit  to  the  island.  Caramba  ! 
I  lost  no  time — I  don't  know  what  my  father  will  say — but  my 
cargo  is  waiting  for  me  at  Lahoa.  I  have  just  returned  from 
Ibou, where  I  have  been  laying  in  my  ballast  in  logwood,  and  they 
will  wonder  what  has  become  of  me.  San  Petro  !  it  took  me 
a  fortnight  to  beat  back  again  to  this  enchanted  island,  and 
here  have  I  been  a  week.  I  suspect  my  cargo  is  disposed  of 
to  some  one  else  ;  but  esta  nada,  I  am  satisfied  to  lose  a  little 
money,  if  I  can  attain  my  aim  with  regard  to  this  island  damsel." 

Seymour  felt  his  blood  rush  with  fearful  rapidity  through 
his  veins  as  he  listened  ;  but  he  controlled  his  rising  passion. 

"  You  said,  senor,*  (using  the  Spanish  term  of  respect,  for 

*  The  reader  will  perceive  that  we  have  used  both  the  Spanish  and  Portuguese 
methods  of  spelling  the  title  of  personal  respect  (in  Spanish  senor,  in  Portuguese 
senhor,  though  both  are  sounded  the  same),  as  occasion  has  been  necessary.  That  is 
to  say,  we  have  used  senhor  when  speaking  of  Dom  Sebastian  in  the  first  person — but 
housed  smor  when  in  conversation  with  Seymour,  as  .they  spoke  in  Spanish.  The 
titles  Dom  and  Don  apply  similarly — both  have  a  similar  sound,  but  the  former 'is 
Portuguese — the  latter  Sp-mish. 


214  THE  CABIN  BOY'S  STORY. 

the  conversation  was,  as  we  have  mentioned  before,  carried  on 
in  Spanish)  "that  you  had  some  plan  in  view  with  regard  to  this 
lady  whom  I  have  yet  to  be  introduced  to  ?  I  shall  be  glad  to 
hear  it.  You  said  you  had  not  yet  met  with  much  favor  from 
the  lady  ?" 

"  Caramba !  nor  have  I.  As  I  told  you,  before,  Seno-r,  the 
damsel  is  as  cold  as  an  icicle;  but  listen — I  know  not  whom 
she  is,  but  I  suspect  she  has  been  stolen,  and  brought  hither 
by  some  of  the  rascally  piratical  slaver  captains  who  frequent 
this  coast.  She  is  ignorant,  poor  thing,  of  the  sad  future  that 
awaits  her  in  such  a  case.  It  is  shocking  to  contemplate — so 
young,  so  beautiful !  Now,  I  intend,  since  I  cannot  entice  her 
to  come  on  board  the  Dom  Pablo — I  believe  it  is  all  through 
that  strange  youth  she  has  placed  on  the  island  to  serve  as  her 
Ganymede — to  carry  her  off,  and  take  her  back  with  me  to 
Lisbon,  and  there  to  marry  her.  My  plan  is  all  arranged. 
No  blood  will  be  spilt — no  more  force  used  than  is  necessary. 
The  youth  she  has  with  her  I  shall  secure,  as  well  as  the  ne 
groes.  I  intend  to  leave  them  on  the  island  unharmed.  I 
don't  want  to  be  troubled  with  the  boy.  He  might,  by  and 
by,  tell  unpleasant  stories.  My  men  are  aware  of  my  plan, 
and  all  is  arranged  to  take  place  to-morrow  night.  To-morrow, 
Senor  Caballero,  we  will  go  together  and  see  the  lady.  You 
will  confess  that  my  heart,  which  has  withstood  the  artillery 
of  so  many  pairs  of  black  eyes  in  Lisbon,  has  not  succumbed 
at  last  to  an  unworthy  object.  Santa  Maria  !  she  is  fairer 
than  Yenus  herself." 

"  But,"  said  Seymour,  amusod,  in  spite  of  his  vexation,  at  the 
enthusiasm  of  the  young  Portuguese,  "  perhaps  the  lady  would 
not  be  willing  to  marry  you — perhaps  she  is  already  wedded." 

"  No,  no;  I  will  not  believe  that  last  supposition;  and  as  to 
her  not  being  willing  to  marry  me — Caramba!  I  will  love  her 
so  much — I  will  worship  her  so  earnestly — that,  by  and  by, 
she  will  love  me." 

"But  your  parents,"  said  Seymour;  "how  will  they  fancy 
your  marriage  with  an  unknown  damsel — the  daughter  and 
sister,  perhaps,  if,  indeed,  not  the  wife  of  some  desperate  out 
law  ?" 

"  My  parents,"  said  the  young  man,  placing  his  hand  affect 
edly  upon  his  bosom,  "  have  nothing  to  say  in  such  an 
affair  as  this  ;  '  les  affections  ch  la  cceur,'  as  they  say  in  France, 
are  not  to  be  controlled,  or  even  regulated,  by  parental  au 
thority." 


THE    CABIN    BOY'S    STORY.  215 

"Well,  Senor,  I  see  your  wound  is  incurable  ;  but  recollect 
I  have  not  yet  seen  the  damsel.  Suppose  I,  too,  should  fall 
in  love,  and  become  your  rival.  How  would  you  manage 
then  ?" 

"I  conceive  the  lady  is  mine  by  prior  right  of  possession. 
Acknowledge,  Senor,  it  would  be  ungallant  in  you  to  offer  to 
take  such  an  advantage;  but  there  is  little  fear  of  that,  I 
trust," 

"  And  you  say  this  little  affair  is  to  come  off  to-morrow 
night  ?  Suppose,  in  the  mean  time,  her  father,  or  brother,  or 
lover,  or,  as  I  said  before,  perchance  her  husband  should  hap 
pen  to  come  into  the  harbor,  and  overthrow  your  plans." 

"  Then  I  must  succumb  for  the  present ;  but  I  would  follow 
her  to  the  world's  end,  but  I  would  learn  who  she  is.  Senor, 
I  am  somewhat  inclined  to  be  Quixotic  in  my  views— I  am  a 
great  admirer  of  that  glorious  romance  of  yours  ( De  Silva  was 
under  the  impression  that  Seymour  was  a  Spaniard)." 

"  I  think  this  plan  of  yours  Quixotic  indeed,"  replied  Sey 
mour,  sarcastically,  for  lie  could  no  longer  entirely  control 
himself.  "  I  think  it  wrong,  and  I  would  oppose  it  myself. 
Listen,  Senor  Don  Sebastian.  Would  it  not  be  better  that 
you  should  forget  this  foolish  caprice — this  absurd  endeavor  to 
obtain  the  love  of  a  strange  damsel,  whom  you  have  only  seen 
for  the  first  time,  a  week  since,  and  to  proceed  on  your 
voyage  ?" 

"  Diabolo !  no,  Senor,'7  haughtily  replied  the  young  Portu 
guese.  "  Senor,  you  have  eaten  bread  and  drank  wine  with 
me,  at  my  table.  I  do  not  wish  to  quarrel  with  you,  but, 
mark  me,  I  am  resolved  to  act  as  I  have  said ;  yoit  can  aid  me 
or  not,  as  you  please;  but,  if  you  oppose  me,  I  am  your  enemy 
to  the  death."  Senor  Sebastian,  in  his  excitement,  while  con 
versing  as  above,  and  relating  his  plans  to  Seymour,  had  in 
dulged  in  the  wine  cup  more  freely  than  was  usual  with  him, 
and  Seymour,  who  had  been  more  guarded,  and  who,  since  he 
found  his  advice  of  no  avail,  had  resolved  to  put  his  own  des 
perate  plan  into  execution — saw  that  further  argument  was 
useless.  He  determined  to  temporize  with  his  guest,  and  he 
merely  replied: 

"  As  you  please,  Senor.  I  shall  not  oppose  your  plan  to 
morrow.  I  only  gave  such  advice  as  I  thought  best—but  we 
will  see  this  lady  together.  Now,  as  it  is  growing  late,  I 
must  go  ashore." 

"  Nay,  Senor,"  replied  the  young  Portuguese  captain,  whose 


216  THE    CABIN    BOY'S    STORY. 

ill  humor  was  appeased  as  quickly  as  it  had  risen;  "I  was  a 
fool  to  get  angry;  you  must  sleep  on  board  to-night.  I  have 
a  spare  state  room." 

"  I  seldom  sleep  in  the  cabin  in  these  warm  climates;  but  I 
will  accept  your  offer,  and  wrap  my  cloak  around  me  under  the 
awning  on  the  quarter-deck;  but  I  must  first  go  ashore  and 
tell  my  men,  or  they  will  be  expecting  me." 

"  As  you  will,  Senor,"  said  Sebastian.  "  I  am  sleepy  ;  I 
think  I  have  drank  too  much  wine ;  I  shall  turn  in  and  sleep. 
Bring  your  men  on  board  with  you,  captain.  To-morrow  we 
will  breakfast  together,  and  I  will  take  you  with  me  to  the 
lady's  bower;  but  be  discreet,  captain — be  discreet;"  and  he 
rose  up,  and  walking  with  a  somewhat  unsteady  step  to  his 
berth,  he  threw  himself,  dressed  as  he  was,  on  the  bed,  mur 
muring,  as  he  closed  his  eyes: 

•'To-morrow,  Senor — to-morrow — be  patient  until  to-mor 
row." 

"  To-morrow  /"  muttered  Seymour,  between  his  teeth,  as  he 
ascended  the  ladder  to  the  deck.  "Yes,  to-night!" 

He  jumped  into  the  schooner's  boat,  and  two  of  the  crew 
pulled  him  ashore — his  own  crew  were  waiting  for  him  on  the 
beach.  They  had,  however,  begun  to  give  him  up,  and  were 
advising  amongst  themselves  whether  they  should  wait  longer, 
or  endeavor  to  find  shelter  from  the  dew  in  some  of  the  negro 
huts  that  skirted  the  beach. 

"  I  have  need  of  you,  men,"  said  he,  as,  after  having  sprung- 
ash  ore,  he  had  told  the  schooner's  men  to  pull  aboard  again — 
sending  a  message  to  the  contrenaistre  of  the  schooner,  to  the 
effect  that-  he  would  be  on  board  in  his  own  boat,  as  he  had 
promised  the  captain,  in  the  course  of  half  an  hour.  "  I  have 
need  of  you,  men,  to-night.  You  must  come  on  board  that 
schooner  with  me,  and  this  night  she  must  be  ours.  Some  of 
you  have  been  engaged  in  deeds  of  piracy;  but  I,  since  I  have 
commanded  a  vessel  myself,  have  always  held  aloof  from  rob 
bery  or  bloodshed,  even  when  most  strongly  tempted.  It  has 
not  been  upon  principle  that  I  have  done  this.  Xo  ;  I  have 
suffered  and  witnessed  enough  to  satisfy  me  that  all  men  prey 
upon  each  other;  and  the  fear  of  incurring  the  penalties  of  the 
law  only  prevents  even  social  communities  from  degenerating 
into  the  practise  of  outrage  upon  life  and  property.  As  it  is, 
society  is  a  system  of  hypocrisy — every  man  hating,  fearing,  or 
envying  his  neighbor.  I  have,  therefore,  no  compunction  in 
raising  my  hand  against  my  fellows  :  it  is  merely  instinct, 


THE    CABIN    BOY  S    STOIIY. 

natural  softness  of  disposition,  perhaps,  that  makes  mo  shrink 
from  and  shudder  at  the  sight  of  blood,  except  it  be  spilt  while 
my  own  blood  is  heated  by  excitement  ;  but  this  night  that 
schooner  must  be  ours ;  when  the  morning  breaks,  she  must  be 
sunk  fathoms  deep  in  the  ocean,  and  none  of  her  crew  must 
survive  to  tell  the  tale.  It  is  unnecessary  for  me  to  tell  you 
why  I  have  resolved  upon  this — for  I  know  that  you  will  obey 
me  without  question — enough  for  me  to  say,  that,  as  you  are 
aware,  I  have  repeatedly  visited  this  island,  on  business  con 
cerning  myself  alone,  the  nature  of  which  some  of  you — nay, 
most,  if  not  all  of  you — are  aware  of.  The  captain  of  yonder 
schooner  has  discovered  my  secret,  and  although  I  might  foil 
him  in  his  designs,  I  could  not  trust  to  the  silence  either  of 
himself  or  his  crew.  It  is  a  stern  decree — a  fate  I  would  wil 
lingly  spare  them — but  they  must  die. *  The  crew  consists  of 
sixteen  men,  including  the  captain.  There  are  nine  of  us, 
armed  and  ready  to  act — while  they  are  unprepared  and  unsus 
pecting  of  treachery.  Of  course,  they  can  be  easily  overpow 
ered,  as  they  awaken  from  their  sleep.  Go  to  rest  when  on 
board,  so  as  to  excite  no  suspicion.  I  will  give  you  the  signal 
when  to  commence.  The  vessel  contains  property  of  consider 
able  value.  Such  of  it  as  can  be  readily  saved  shall  belong 
wholly  to  you.  I  do  not  intend  to  share  in  the  spoil.  Conceal 
your  arms  ;  be  cautious,  yet  ready  to  act  on  the  instant,  and 
you  will  succeed  without  difficulty.  Now,  men,  are  you  ready 
to  follow  me  ?" 

"  All — all  ready,"  shouted  the  men. 

"  Then  man  the  boat,  and  let  us  go  on  board." 

In  the  course  of  a  few  minutes  Seymour  and  his  pinnace's 
crew  stood  upon  the  deck  of  the  Dom  Pablo. 

"  Is  the  captain  asleep  ?"  asked  Seymour  of  the  contremais- 
tre,  who  was  standing  at  the  gangway,  half  asleep,  waiting  to 
receive  the  visitors. 

"  Si,  Senor,  and  I  have  been  ashore  all  day.  I  am  tired. 
I  am  glad  you  have  come,  that  I,  too,  may  sleep." 

"  Do  you  keep  no  watch  ?"  asked  Seymour. 

"  No,  Senor,  not  in  this  harbor.  Caramba !  there  is  no 
danger — the  anchorage  is  good,  the  water  is  smooth,  and  we 
do  not  fear  any  attacks  from  the  natives  of  this  island." 

Seymour  glanced  satisfactorily  at  his  men. 

"  I  thought  you  kept  watch,"  said  lie.  "  Who  are  those 
two  men  walking  the  deck,  forward  there  ?" 

"They  are  the  nominal  \y-atcli,  Smior,  but  here  we  allow 

10 


218  THE  CABIN  BOY'S  STORY. 

them  to  sleep.  The  boat  coming  alongside  has  roused  them 
for  a  moment — they  will  soon  sleep  again," 

"  I  told  Don  Sebastian  that  I  should  repose  in  the  cot  under 
the  awning;  but  I  think  I  will  go  below  to  the  berth  the  cap 
tain  offered  me,"  said  Seymour. 

"As  you  please,  Senor.  For  my  part,  I  shall  stretch  my 
self  on  deck.  Diabolo !  the  cabin  is  too  warm  for  me." 

"  And  my  men  ?"  said  Seymour,  inquiringly. 

"  Can  pick  out  the  softest  plank  until  daylight,  and  then  we 
will  give  them  a  good  breakfast.  We  feed  well  on  board  the 
Dona  Pablo,  Senor." 

Seymour  carelessly  told  his  men  to  lie  down  where  they 
could  find  the  best  place,  while  he  himself  descended  to  the 
cabin. 

In  the  course  of  half  an  hour  he  returned  to  the  deck.  The 
crew  of  the  schooner  were  all  soundly  sleeping — like  their  cap 
tain,  they  had  indulged,  most  of  them,  too  freely.  Poor  fel 
lows,  they  were  making  the  most  of  their  holiday — but  little 
fancying,  as  their  minds  wandered  in  their  slumbers  to  the 
sunny  banks  of  the  Douro  and  the  Tagus,  where  they  had  left 
their  wives,  and  sweethearts,  and  families,  and  friends — little 
dreaming  of  the  fate  that  was  hanging  over  their  heads. 

Seymour's  crew  heard  his  light  footstep,  as  he  reached  the 
deck.  They  looked  inquiringly  towards  him,  as  he  drew  near 
the  spot  where  they  were  half  sitting,  half  lying,  in  a  cluster. 

"  Is  it  time,  Captain  ?"  asked  one,  in  a  whisper. 

"  Not  yet — not  yet,"  replied  Seymour,  in  a  like  low  tone. 
"  Who  is  there  on  deck  ?"  lie  asked,  glancing  around  him. 

"  Only  two  sailors,  and  the  contremaistre.  They  are  sleeping 
soundly." 

"  They  must  not  awake.  You  will  be  able  to  secure  their 
arms  and  legs  with  some  of  the  rattling-line  I  see  there,  with 
out  disturbing  their  slumbers.  This  done,  you  must  do  the 
same  good  office  to  the  sleepers  below.  The  captain  is  already 
secure — I  do  not  fear  his  waking;  but,  at  all  events,  he  is  fast, 
hand  and  foot.  Mind  men,  if  it  be  possible  to  avoid  it,  there 
must  be  no  bloodshed.  When  all  the  crew  are  secured,  we 
will  scuttle  the  ship,  whilst  they  are  sleeping,  and  then  there 
will  be  time  to  remove  your  spoil — the  valuables  from  the 
cabin — the  men's  chests  from  the  forecastle,  too,  if  you  choose. 
Now,  to  work,  and  noiselessly — all  depends  upon  speed  and 
quietness." 

So  soundly  were  all  the  devoted  crew  of  the  ill-fated  Dom 


THE  CABIN  BOY'S  STORY.  219 

Pablo  sleeping,  that  not  one  of  them  was  aroused  while  the 
stout  cordage  was  being  wound  around  them  in  such  a  manner 
that  none  of  them  could  rise  to  their  feet  when  awakened  ;  and, 
this  done,  two  of  the  men  were  directed  to  pierce  augur  holes  in 
the  sides,  below  the  water-mark. 

It  was  done  :  the  unconscious  victims  were  bound  down  in 
their  floating  home,  so  soon  to  be  their  coffin;  and  meanwhile, 
the  valuables  from  the  cabin,  and,  indeed,  every  movable  ar 
ticle  the  pinnace  could  carry,  was  placed  on  board  of  her,  and 
the  pirates — for  such  Seymour  and  his  crew  now  undoubtedly 
were — entered  the  boat  themselves,  so  as  to  get  beyond  the 
effects  of  the  suction,  when  the  schooner  should  go  down. 
They  were  none  too  soon  in  the  boat — the  little  vessel  was 
sinking  rapidly,  and  the  noise  of  the  water  rushing  in  had  ap 
parently  waked  up  one  or  more  of  the  sleepers  ;  for,  as  the 
boat  was  being  pulled  rapidly  beyond  the  reach  of  the  impend 
ing  danger,  the  crew  heard  a  voice  shouting  aloud,  in  tones  of 
alarm  and  terror. 

"Pull  away — pull  men — out  of  hearing  of  that  voice!" 
shouted  Seymour,  and  he  pressed  both  hands  on  his  ears,  as 
though  seeking  to  shut  out  the  sound,  and  the  men,  animated 
by  the  same  impulse — for  the  tones  of  that  voice,  so  full  of 
anguish,  struck  to  the  hearts  of  the  most  hardened  amongst 
them — did  pull  with  all  their  might,  until  the  perspiration 
rolled  like  rain  drops  down  their  cheeks,  and  their  light 
clothing  was  as  thoroughly  saturated  as  if  they  had  dipped 
it  overboard  into  the  water.  And  then  they  stopped,  as 
with  .one  accord,  and  looked  back  with  straining  eyes.  The 
Dom  Pablo  was  still  afloat,  and  her  tall,  graceful  masts,  could 
still  be  traced  in  the  clear  atmosphere  of  that  starlit  night; 
.but  the  black  line  of  the  hull  was  now  a  mere  streak  on  the 
surface  of  the  water  ;  and  now  the  masts  sway  heavily  to 
and  fro,  and  the  vessel  gives  a  sudden  jerk  forward,  and  the 
eyes  of  the  pinnace's  crew  are  fixed  upon  her  with  a  serpent- 
like  fascination,  while  the  warm  perspiration  has  turned  to  a 
cold  clammy  sweat  upon  their  faces — a  mortal  terror  seems  for 
the  moment  to  have  possessed  them,  and  a  convulsive  shudder 
passes  through  their  frames,  which  causes  the  pinnace  itself, 
deeply  laden  as  it  is,  to  tremble  ;  for  now  the  vessel  jerks  for 
ward  still  more  violently,  and  again  the  bow  recedes  from  the 
water,  as  if  the  beautiful  craft  were  struggling  to  avert  its 
doom  ;  but  in  vain  ;  the  last  plunge  is  made,  and  the  Dom 
Pablo,  so  lately  riding  in  queenly  grace  and  beauty  on  the 


220  THE    CABIN    BOY'S    STORY. 

gently  flowing  billows  of  the  bay,  has  sunk  to  the  bottom, 
and  sixteen  souls,  in  all  the  pride  of  health  and  strength, 
have  passed  into  eternity. 

"Pull  to  the  shore,"  said  Seymour,  in  a  stern  tone;  and  then 
he  muttered,  "  To-morrow  !  did  he  not  say  to-morrow  1  Well, 
where  will  he  meet  his  morrow  ?  and  by  and  by,  where  will  be 
mine  ?  Psha  !  the  fool — he  brought  it  all  on  his  own  head. 
It  was  not  my  fault.  Pull  away,  men,"  he  shouted,  louder  and 
more  sternly  than  before.  "  Pull  away — let  us  quit  this  cursed 
spot." 

And  the  men  did  pull  with  all  their  might,  still  keeping  their 
gaze  fixed  upon  the  spot  where  the  Dom  Pablo  had  disap 
peared,  as  though  they  expected  and  dreaded  to  see  the  ghosts 
of  the  drowned  victims  arise  from  beneath  the  dark  water.  All 
those  men  had  been  guilty  many  a  time  of  lawless  deeds — some 
had  already  imbrued  their  hands  in  human  blood — but  there 
were  some  amongst  them  who  felt  that  on  that  night  the 
burning  mark  of  Cain  had  been  for  the  first  time  stamped 
upon  their  brows,  never  more  to  be  effaced. 

It  wanted  yet  some  hours  of  dawn,  and  when  they  had 
reached  the  shore  they  tried  to  sleep;  but  little  slumber  visited 
their  eyelids  that  night.  But  one  cry  had  been  heard,  yet  fancy 
echoed  and  re-echoed  that  cry  of  agony,  and  the  mingled  voices 
of  the  drowning  victims  seemed  to  be  howling  around  the  mur 
derers  in  the  midst  of  the  gloom. 

Seymour  sat  apart,  his  face  buried  in  his  hands.  What  were 
the  thoughts  of  the  wretched  man  during  the  residue  of  that 
night  of  horror  ? 

At  length  day  dawned.  Never  before  had  day  appeared  to 
dawn  so  slowly  to  those  guilty  men;  but  the  bright,  warm  sun 
rose  at  last,  diffusing  gladness  around,  and  the  gloom  passed 
from  them,  and  some  of  the  more  hardened  even  affected  to  jest 
upon  the  occurrences  of  the  night  ;  but  Seymour — the  most 
guilty  of  all,  the  promoter  of  the  dreadful  deed — sternly  re 
buked  them,  and,  bidding  them  remain  by  the  pinnace,  bent 
his  steps  towards  the  residence  of  Zuleika.  *  * 

The  bright  beams  of  the  rising  sun  had  no  sooner  flashed  on 
the  casement  of  the  bed-room  where  Zuleika  slept  than  she 
sprang  from  her  couch,  and  after  performing  her  morning  ablu 
tions,  and  hastily  dressing  herself,  she  sought  the  couch  of  Jane 
Miller. 

"  Wake  up,"  she  said,  "  see  what  a  lovely  morning;  let  us 
walk  out  before  the  hour  arrives  on  which  that  strange  man 


THE    CABIN    BOY'S    STORY.  221 

will  repeat  his  tiresome  visits.  Oh!  I  wish  Seymour  would 
come.  Surely,  now  that  I  have  been  so  much  annoyed,  he  will 
remove  me  hence — to — to  his  own  country." 

Jane  Miller  arose  from  the  bed  on  which  she  had  been  repos 
ing,  and  was  soon  ready  to  join  Zuleika  in  her  accustomed 
morning  ramble.  Their  first  destination  was  to  the  summit  of 
the  eminence  where  stood  the  flag-staff,  which  summit  com 
manded  an  extended  view  of  the  ocean. 

Zuleika  arrived  first  at  the  flag-staff,  and  her  gaze  was  natu 
rally  directed  towards  the  spot  where  the  schooner  had  been  at 
anchor  for  the  past  week. 

"  Is  it  possible,"  she  said,  as  Jane  approached  her,  "  or  do 
my  eyes  deceive  me.  See,  Jane!  the  Portuguese  schooner  has 
sailed  during  the  night,  and  yet  the  captain  said  he  should 
come  here  again,  to-day.  Oh,  I  am  so  glad!  Now,  if  I  could 
only  see  my  husband's  ship,  I  should  be  quite  happy.  He  has 
been  long  away.  Surely  he  must  come  soon  now." 

"  The  schooner  seems,  indeed,  to  have  sailed,"  said  Jane 
Miller,  as  she  gazed  towards  the  anchorage.  "  The  captain 
has  taken  his  departure  suddenly;  but  I  am  glad  of  it.  I 
should  dread  to  see  strangers  here  when  Seymour  conies." 

"  Let  us  go  down  to  the  landing-place,"  said  Zuleika.  "  It 
is  a  long  time  since  we  have  walked  there;  I  have  been  too 
frightened  to  go  there  since  those  strangers  have  been  here,"  and 
without  waiting  for  Jane's  reply,  she  bounded  away  down  the 
hill,  with  the  grace  and  speed  of  a  fawn,  followed  almost  as 
rapidly  by  her  more  staid  companion.  They  soon  reach  the 
path  which  led  to  the  landing-place,  through  the  wood,  but  in 
another  moment  stopped  suddenly  and  panic  stricken — 

"  The  vessel  has  sailed  and  left  some  of  the  crew  on  the 
island.  Oh  I  what  can  be  the  meaning  of  this  ?"  asked  Zuleika. 

"  Let  us  return  to  the  cottage,"  replied  Jane.  "  See,  some 
one  is  approaching  towards  us." 

Zuleika  gazed  in  the  direction  pointed  out  by  Jane,  and  to 
the  astonishment  of  her  companion,  immediately  uttered  a  cry 
of  delight  and  ran  forward  to  meet  the  stranger. 

11  It  is  George — dear  George,"  she  said.  "  He  has  come  at 
last,"  and  before  Jane  could  recover  from  her  surprise,  Zuleika 
was  in  her  husband's  embrace. 

For  the  time  being  the  guilty  man  forgot  the  horrors  of  the 
past  night,  which  he  had  been  brooding  over  as  he  walked 
along. 


222  THE  CABIN  BOY'S  STORY. 

"  My  own  Zuleika,"  he  said,  "  this  meeting  repays  me  for  all 
my  anxiety.  I  have  been  very  anxious  about  you,  love." 

"  And  I  have  much  "to  tell  you,  when  I  have  time;  but  not 
now — oh,  not  now — I  am  too  happy;  but  George,  you  have 
come  at  last  to  take  me  away  from  this  place ;  have  you  not  ?" 

"  Why,  dearest  ?" 

"  Because,  I  am  unhappy  here.  So  many  strangers  come 
here  now — and,  perhaps  I  am  foolish — but  I  am  afraid  to  live 
here  alone  any  longer." 

"  It  is  as  I  thought,"  muttered  Seymour  to  himself.  "What 
I  have  heard  has  been  the  truth."  Then  he  added  aloud.  "  I 
have  come  to  take  you  home,  Zuleika — to-day.  Can  you  get 
ready  to  go  with  me  to-day  ?" 

"  Yes— in  an  hour,"  exclaimed  the  delighted  girl;  "  but 
George,  where  is  your  ship  ?" 

"  I  have  come  in  the  pinnace,  as  usual,  darling,"  said  Sey 
mour.  "  You  will  not  be  afraid  to  go  in  her  with  me  to  the 
place  where  my  ship  is  at  anchor  ?" 

"  I  will  go  anywhere — everywhere  with  you,  George,"  said 
the  young  girl,  looking  up  smilingly  and  lovingly  into  her  hus 
band's  face.  "  Are  you  going  to  take  me  to  America  ?" 

"  I  am  going  to  take  you  to  a  new,  and  I  hope  a  more 
happy  and  pleasant  home,"  answered  Seymour,  evading  the 
question. 

"  To  your  home,  George  ?" 

"  Yes,  love,  to  my  home;  at  least  to  the  place  I  hope  soon  to 
make  my  home." 

Thus  chatting  together  they  walked  on  in  the  direction  of  the 
cottage.  Jane  Miller  had  remained  on  the  spot  where  she  had 
stood  when  Zuleika  first  espied  Seymour.  Until  then,  the  lat 
ter  had  not  noticed  her,  if  he  had,  in  his  delight  at  meeting 
Zuleika,  he  had  disregarded  her. 

"Ah,  Harry,"  said  he;  "how  have  you  been  since  I  have 
been  away.  The  air  of  Annabon  seems  to  agree  with  you, 
boy.  You  are  blushing  like  a  rose.  How  have  Harry  and 
you  agreed  together,  Zuleika  V"  addressing  the  latter. 

"  Oh,  famously,"  replied  Zuleika.  I  should  have  been  still 
more  lonesome  had  it  not  have  been  for  his  companionship. 
You  will  take  her" — she  stopped  (Zuleika  was  nearly  forget 
ting  herself;  but  Seymour  had  not  noticed  the  slip  of  the 
tongue.)  "You  will  take  him  with  us  to  our  new  home — to 
your  home,  won't  you,  dear  George  ?" 


THE    CABIN    BOY'S    STORY.  223 

"  If  he  chooses  to  accompany  you,  dear — but  he  is  his  own 
master  in  that  regard — " 

"  Oh,  then  I  am  sure  he'll  go,"  interrupted  Zuleika — then 
suddenly  recollecting  herself,  and  checking  her  speech,  as 
though  some  painful  thought  had  crossed  her  mind,  she  added 
— "  But  no,  perhaps  I  am  wrong;  perhaps  Harry  had  better 
leave  us.  Ht  has  friends  he  wishes  to  see  at  home — I  have 
only  you,  George,"  and  throwing  her  arm  around  her  husband's 
neck,  she  raised  her  slight  figure  on  tiptoe,  and  gently  pulled 
his  face  towards  her,  again  pressed  her  lips  to  his. 

"  A  sudden  change  in  your  fancy,  darling,'7  said  Seymour, 
returning  the  kiss  with  interest.  "  Well,  settle  that  matter  be 
tween  you.  Let  Harry  make  what  choice  he  pleases.  But 
now  let  us  go  to  the  cottage,  dear.  We  must  be  away  to-night, 
and  there  is  much  to  be  done." 

"  And  you  shall  see  how  quickly  I  can  do  it,  George,"  re 
plied  Zuleika.  "  There  is  only  one  regret — I  shall  dread  to 
bid  good-by  forever  to  my  poor  faithful  negroes." 

"  Better  not  say  good-by  at  all,  then,"  replied  Seymour, 
who  had  his  own  object  in  this  arrangement. 

"  I  could  never  leave  them  without  saying  farewell,"  answered 
Zuleika  ;  "  I  should  ever  be  sorry  for  it  afterwards.  They 
have  been  so  kind  always.  It  would  be  ungrateful." 

"  You  would  think  of  the  parting  twice  as  bitterly,believe  me, 
Zuleika,  if  you  subjected  yourself  to  the  bitterness  of  saying 
good-by.  But,  never  mind  that  now.  To  the  cottage  and  get 
things  iu  readiness." 

It  was  a  more  sorrowful  and  a  longer  task  than  Zuleika  had 
first  thought,  this  leaving  a  home — lonely  enough,  but  still  en 
deared  to  her  by  so  many  ties.  There  were  her  pet  kids  and 
fawns  to  pat  and  caress  for  the  last  time.  She  had  not  thought 
of  this.  There  were  all  her  pets  amongst  the  negro  children, 
too;  she  had  forgotten  them.  In  her  delight  at  Seymour's 
arrival;  at  the  thought — poor  child  ! — engendered  by  her  own 
bright  hopes,  that  she  was  going  to  live  with  him  at  his  own 
home,  and  to  be  separated  from  him  no  more,  she  had  for 
gotten,  that  although  she  loved  Seymour  with  an  all-en 
grossing  love,  there  were  still  numerous  other  little  ties  at 
tached  to  her  heart  which  could  not  rudely  be  snapped  asunder, 
without  causing  that  gentle  heart  to  bleed.  But  the  fiat  had 
gone  forth  from  the  lips  of  him  she  loved  and  worshipped  with 
Jill  the  purity  and  depth  of  a  true  woman's  love,  and  she  has 
tened  to  prepare  for  this  momentous  change  in  her  mode  of 


224 

life.  She  and  Jane,  or  rather  Harry,  as  she  styled  her  again 
now,  were  busy  all  day — and  in  the  hurry  and  bustle  much  was 
forgotten  that  would  otherwise  have  saddened  her  mind.  By 
midnight,  all  was  ready  for  their  departure.  The  negroes  were 
asleep  ;  they  had  no  thought  of  her  departure,  and  Seymour 
would  not  have  them  awakened.  We  have  said  already,  he 
had  his  own  object  in  view.  The  seamen  were  called  up  from 
the  beach,  and  the  luggage  removed  to  the  pinnace  ;  and  then 
Zulcika,  accompanied  by  Seymour  and  Jane  Miller,  and  the 
only  personal  attendant  who  resided  in  the  cottage,  also  went 
on  board. 

"  Wait  here  for  me,"  said  Seymour,  after  having  seen  her  safe 
to  the  boat.  "  I  have  forgotten  something  at  the  cottage,  I 
will  return  as  soon  as  possible.  Get  all  ready  for  starting," 
addressing  the  seamen. 

He  was  absent  about  three  quarters  of  an  hour. 

"  Now,  put  off/'  said  he,  as  he  returned,  and  springing  on 
board  he  seated  himself  beside  Zuleika  under  the  awning  in  the 
stern  sheets  of  the  pinnace — which  in  a  short  time  was  gliding 
swiftly  over  the  waves,  and  fast  leaving  Zuleika' s  home,  for  so 
many  years,  behind.  They  had  just  reached  the  point  that 
would  have  shut  out  the  inlet  and  harbor  from  view,  when  a 
bright  lurid  flame  seemed  to  burst  forth  from  the  midst  of  the 
woods,  in  the  direction  of  the  cottage. 

"  What  is  that  !"  said  Zuleika,  greatly  alarmed. 

"  It  is  your  cottage  burning,  darling,  I  have  fired  it — don't 
be  alarmed." 

"But  the  negroes — the  poor,  helpless  negroes/'  said  the 
girl. 

"  They  are  safe,  love.  It  is  only  the  residence  lately  occupied 
by  you  Jhat  is  on  fire.  The  negroes  will  be  awakened  when  they 
see  the  flames,  and  will  make  their  escape." 

"  Why  have  you  burned  my  cottage — the  dear  old  cottage 
where  I  have  lived  so  long,  George  ?" 

"  I  have  motives  you  can't  understand,  love.  Some  day,  per 
haps,  you  shall  hear  them.  Now  for  our  new  home." 

And  the  pinnace  sped  on,  her  pathway  light  across  the  waters 
by  the  reflection  of  the  flames  which  burned  fiercely  and  bril 
liantly  lighted  up  the  entire  horizon. 

The  scene  was  grand  and  picturesque  ;  but  the  reflection  of 
those  lurid  flames,  and  the  awful  sublimity  of  the  scene,  struck 
horror  to  the  hearts  of  the  seamen. 

They  recollected  the  horrible  deed  of  the  previous  night,  and 


THE    CABIN    BOY'S    STORY.  225 

the  red  flames  seemed,  to  their  superstitious  imaginations,  to  be 
the  flames  of  Hell — bursting  forth  and  pursuing  them,  even 
across  the  waters,  as  though  in  haste  to  surround  and  consume 
them  for  their  misdeeds.  But  the  boat  sped  quietly  along,  and 
the  night  passed  away  and  the  morning  dawned,  and  towards 
the  close  of  the  day  the  pinnace  arrived  at  the  place  where  the 
Albatross  lay — and  Zuleika  slept  that  night  in  the  cabin  of  her 
husband's  ship. 


CHAPTER    XXI. 

Mr.  Mordant  displays  his  Charity  in  the  midst  of  his  Misfortunes — He 
meets  with  a  severe  Domestic  Affliction. 

"  DEAR  me,  dear  me,  how  very  singular — how  incomprehen 
sible  to  me  is  this  determination  of  Seymour's,"  muttered  Mr. 
Mordant  to  himself,  as  he  was  sitting  in  his  library  in  his  house 

in Place,  with  a  packet  of  letters  before  him — one  of 

which  he  had  twice  perused,  and  still  held  in  his  hand;  and  the 
wealthy  old  merchant  laid  the  hand  which  held  the  letter  on 
his  knee,  and  with  knit  brows  and  compressed  lips,  sat  twirling 
his  gold  double  eye-glass  round  his  finger  by  the  black  silk  rib 
bon  which  held  it,  as  was  customary  with  him,  when  in  what  is 
termed  a  brown  study.  "  Perfect-ly  incom-prehensible,"  he  re 
peated,  slowly  emphasising  the  syllables — "  I  can't  understand 
it,"  and  he  raised  his  left  hand  which  held  the  letter,  and  again 
placing  his  eye-glass  to  his  eye  ran  over  sundry  of  the  para 
graphs  again. 

«  <  *  *  *  *  j  jiave  ma(}e  arrangements  for  a  supply  of 
freight,  as  usual,  with  the  Loango  chiefs,' — um — urn — urn.  All 
very  well,  so  far  as  that  goes — '  Tolcroft  will  navigate  the  ves 
sel  to  the  Brazils.  He  is  careful,  and  I  have  instructed  him 
how  to  act  ;  besides  furnishing  him  with  letters  of  introduc 
tion  to  certain  parties  you  wot  of,  in  Aracati  and  Bahia ' — very 
well,  all  very  well,  if  Tolcroft  is  able  to  manage  things  prop 
erly.  He  is  a  good  seaman  enough,  I  know  that;  but,  bless  me, 
such  a  blundering,  uncouth  dog — that  I  have  my  misgivings. 

"  *  I  think '  (again  reading  the  letter),  *  you  should  expect  to 
hear  of  the  arrival  of  the  Albatross  at  Aracati,  or  somewhere 
upon  the  coast,  during  the  ensuing  month  of  August,  if  all  goes 
on  favorably.'  Yes,  if  all  goes  on  favorably ;  but  it  is  too  bad 
of  Seymour,  to  play  me  this  trick.  What  can  have  possessed 

10* 


226  THE  CABIN  BOY  3  STORY. 

the  man  ?  What  mad  freak  has  he  taken  into  his  head  ?  '  I 
arrived  at  Sierra  Leone,  a  week  ago,  and  shall  leave  for  St. 
Lewis  on  the  Senegal,  to-morrow,  in  a  French  coasting  craft, 
there  I  shall  probably  find  a  vessel  bound  to  the  southern  coast 
of  France,  and  as  imperative  business  calls  me  to  the  Mediter 
ranean,  I  shall  embrace  that,  which  I  think  the  readiest  oppor 
tunity  of  reaching  that  sea.  It  is  not  necessary  at  present  to 
explain  my  future  plans  ;  but  if  all  goes  well,  you  will  see  me 
in  New  York  by  October  next.' 

"  Strange,  very  strange  indeed  1  but  what  else  does  he  say! 
Ah— 

"'*  *  *  *  *  By-the-by — I  hear  sad  tidings  of  the 
Dolphin.  Junot,  it  appears  got  away  from  the  cruiser,  which, 
you  recollect,  I  informed  you  had  captured  her  and  well  nigh 
entrapped  me  ;  but  he  was  caught  in  a  pampero  and  his  vessel 
was  disabled — sheer  carelessness  on  his  part.  These  pamperos 
are  quite  harmless  if  a  proper  look-out  is  kept  and  sail  reduced  in 
time — and  she  was  taken  the  following  day  by  a  British  man- 
of-war,  and,  of  course,  made  a  prize  of — having  at  the  time 
she  was  disabled  upwards  of  two  hundred  slaves  on  board— 
whom  Junot  threw  overboard  when  he  saw  the  man-of-war  was 
going  to  board  her.  He  might  have  got  clear  off — though  at 
a  dreadful  sacrifice  of  life  and  property — after  all  ;  but,  it  ap 
pears  that  he  had  expended  the  prize  crew  who  had  been  placed 
on  board  by  the  vessel  that  first  captured  him,  and  from  which 
he  made  his  escape — cleverly  enough — I  give  him  credit  for 
that.  But  one  of  his  crew,  horrified  at  the  scenes  he  had  wit 
nessed — Junot  was  always  d — d  careless  who  he  engaged,  brute 
as  he  was — informed  the  British  officer  of  the  murder.  Of 
course  the  Dolphin  was  seized,  and  she  and  her  officers  and  crew 
were  carried  into  St.  Helena,  where  the  latter  were  brought  to 
trial.  The  vessel  was  condemned  and  sold,  and  the  captain  and 
officers  sentenced  to  death.  The  two  mates  were  hanged  ; 
but  Junot  shot  himself  in  prison  the  night  preceding  the  day 
on  which  he  was  to  have  been  executed.  The  crew  were  sent 
adrift,  and  I  suppose  by  this  time  are  scattered  about  in  vari 
ous  places.  Altogether  it  was  a  bad  job;  but  it  served  Junot 
right.  He  was  a  coward  and  a  brute  into  the  bargain;  and, 
although  we  are  all  compelled  to  do  dirty  jobs  occasionally,  he 
had  a  bungling  way  of  doing  things,  which  was  repeatedly  get 
ting  him  into  trouble.  It  is  such  men  as  he  that  bring  disgrace 
upon  us,  and  I  can't  say  I  am  sorry  for  his  fate — I  hope  the 
loss  will  not  fall  very  heavily  upon  you.  By  the  way,  I  forgot 


THE    CABIN    BOY'S    STORY.  227 

to  say  that  there  were  two  negro  babies  found  in  the  cabin  of 
the  Dolphin — which  have  been  sent  to  Sierra  Leone — the  only 
portion  of  the  freight  found  on  board.  ****** 

''Pooh!"  said  the  merchant  as  he  concluded  the  extract. 
"  What  the  D — 1.  I  mean  what  is  it  to  me  whether  any  negro 
babies  were  found  or  not.  I  shall  lose  a  pretty  penny  by  the 
affair — although  fortunately  the  loss  will  not  fall  altogether 
on  me.  That,  however,  is  not  the  worst  of  it.  It  may  lead 
to  inquiries  which  may  not  be  pleasant.  Well,  well;  bad  news 
never  comes  single.  I  am  a  good  deal  more  annoyed  at  Sey 
mour's  strange  conduct  than  I  am  at  the  loss  of  the  Dolphin. 
I  had  made  up  my  mind  to  that — "  and  Mr.  Mordant  folded 
up  the  letter;  placed  it  in  the  bundle  and  carefully  locked  it 
up  in  his  desk.  Then  again  seating  himself  in  his  arm-chair, 
he  gazed  pensively  into  the  evening  twilight,  while  the  contor 
tion  of  the  muscles  of  his  face,  the  knitting  of  his  brows,  and 
the  nervous  twitching  of  the  lines  around  his  closely  compressed 
lips,  showed  evidently  that  his  mind  was  ill  at  ease.  There 
were  other  matters  of  weighty  moment  pressing  upon  him  and 
paralizing  his  energies  and  distracting  his  thoughts  at  that  mo 
ment,  besides  the  singular  and  inexplicable  behavior  of  Sey 
mour,  and  the  loss  of  the  Dolphin.  He  kept  muttering  almost 
inaudibly  to  himself.  At  length  he  spoke  aloud,  but  still  in  a 
low  tone  of  voice  : 

"  I  wish,"  he  said,  "  I  could  get  clear  of  that  scoundrel  Har 
vey.  I  don't  half  like  his  manner  of  late.  I  am  almost 
sorry  I  gave  him  that  money;  and  yet  I  could  not  avoid  it, 
without  giving  up  the  property.  I  had  better  have  done  that, 
if  I  could  have  been  sure  that  he  would  have  held  his  tongue 
afterwards;  but  he  has  me  in  his  power,  and  I  can  see  intends 
to  use  that  power  to  suit  his  own  ends.  I  begin  to  .think  Mrs. 
Miller  has  heard  something  about  this  business.  Her  man 
ner  was  very  strange  when  she  called  at  the  office  yester 
day — " 

There  was  a  knock  at  the  door  of  the  library. 

"  Come  in,"  said  the  merchant,  and  a  servant  entered  with  a 
letter  on  a  silver  tray. 

"  A  letter  for  you,  sir,"  said  he.  "  The  person  who  brought 
it  is  waiting  below." 

Mr.  Mordant  opened  the  tetter,  and  a  tailor's  bill  fell  from 
the  inside.  He  picked  it  up  without  looking  at  it,-  and  laying 
it  on  the  table,  commenced  to  read  the  letter.  It  was  *as 
follows  : — 


228     . 

" BROADWAY", 

RESPECTED  SIR  : — The  exceeding  tightness  of  the  money 
market,  just  now,  compels  me  to  make  an  appeal  to  you,  in  the 
hope  that  you  will  use  your  influence  to  induce  Mr.  Charles  to 
settle  the  enclosed  account,  now  current  for  two  years.  I  have 
a  large  sum  to  make  up  by  the  1st  inst.,  and  if  I  am  unable  to 
raise  the  money,  I  shall  be  compelled  to  go  into  the  Bankrupt 
Court.  I  am  sorry  to  say  that  tin's  distress  on  my  part  has 
been  brought  about  by  the  impossibility  of  obtaining  payment 
of  my  accounts  with  several  young  gentlemen,  who,  like  Mr. 
Charles  Mordant,  have  got  deeply  in  my  debt,  and  who,  as  is 
the  case  with  him,  have  not  made  any  settlement  for  years.  I 
make  this  appeal,  confident  that  you  will  see  the  necessity  of 
settling  the  account,  as  the  disclosure  that  must  necessarily  be 
made,  should  my  books  come  before  the  court,  must,  of  course, 
be  unpleasant  to  a  young  gentleman  in  your  son's  tocial  posi 
tion.  I  am  sorry  to  add,  that  I  made  a  last  urgent  request  to 
your  son  yesterday,  when  he  told  me  to  'go  to  the  d — IF  I 
had  no  other  resource  left  but  to  apply  to  you. 

Yours,  very  respectfully, 

n 

"  C.  Mordant,  Esq." 

The  reader  is  not  to  suppose  that  the  worthy  tradesman 
meant  anything  by  the  inuendo  that  he  had  innocently  blun 
dered  upon  in  the  latter  portion  of  his  letter  to  the  merchant. 
It  was  merely  a  clumsily-constructed  sentence,  on  reading- 
which,  vexed  as  he  was,  the  merchant  could  not  forbear  smil 
ing.  The  smile,  however,  soon  gave  place  to  a  frown,  as  he 
took  up  the  account  and  examined  it. 

"  Thirteen  hundred  and  sixty-two  dollars,  seventy-five  cents  I" 
said  he,  in  a  tone  of  amazement,  "  for  two  years'  purchase  of 
clothing  at  his  tailor's;  and  Charles  has  an  allowance  of  three 
thousand  a  year!  Good  gracious!  why  the  boy  must  be  the 
veriest  spendthrift  on  earth — besides,  not  a  month  ago,  he 
came  to  me  and  pleaded  to  having  overdrawn  his  allowance, 
and  begged  five  hundred  dollars,  which,  after  a  severe  lecture, 
I  gave  him,  to  discharge  this  very  tailor's  bill.  I  must  see 

Mr. about  this,  and  talk  to  Charles.  It  will  never  do, 

though,  as  things  stand  at  present,  to  allow  the  debt  to  be 
proven  in  'Court.  The  man  must  be  paid,  I  suppose, 

"  Thomas,"  addressing  the  servant,  tell  Mr. —  I  will  call  at 

his  store  on  my  way  to  town,  to-morrow.'' 


THE  CADI;*'  BOY'S  STORY.  229 

"  Yes,  sir,"  said  the  man,  and  lie  retired  to  deliver  the 
message. 

In  a  few  minutes  he  returned. 

"  Mr.  Douglass  is  waiting  below,  sir,  and  if  you  are  disen 
gaged,  he  would  like  to  see  you." 

"  Confounded  bore!"  muttered  the  merchant.  "  Tell  him  I 
am  busy,  Thomas,  and  ask  him  if  he  will  call  again.  Some 
demand  for  payment  to  some  religious  charity,  I  suppose.  No 
—stay,  Thomas;  ask  Mr.  Douglass  to  walk  up  stairs." 

"It  is  as  well  to  settle  these  things  promptly;  they  are 
necessary  expenditures,  and  turn  to  a  profitable  account,"  he 
added  to  himself,  as  the  man  quitted  the  room.  "  I  have 
spent  thousands  in  this  way;  but  I  don't  know  that  they 
haven't  paid  good  interest." 

Mr.  Douglass  was  shown  up  stairs  and  entered  the  room, 
and  was  received  with  great  suavity  by  Mr.  Mordant. 

'•Take  a  seat,  Mr.  Douglass,"  said  he;  "I  am  glad  to  sec 
you.  A  call,  I  presume,  for  my  subscription  to  some  of  those 
charities  in  which  you  interest  yourself  so  much  ?" 

"  You  have  guessed  right,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Douglass.  "And 
I  am  happy  to  say  that  you,  Mr.  Mordant,  are  amongst  those 
upon  whom  the  directors  of  charitable  societies  can  always 
reckon.  The  money  is  not  forced  from  you,  but  is  offered 
freely  and  with  good  will.  Oh!  Mr.  Mordant,  I  wish  more  of 
our  wealthy  citizens  were  like  you  in  that  respect,  although  I 
should  not  complain,  for,  let  people  say  what  they  may  of  the 
inherent  selfishness  of  human  nature,  my  mission  brings  me  into 
contact  with  men  and  women  whose  charitable  feelings  are 
spontaneous,  and  who  readily  give  of  their  abundance  to  the 
relief  of  their  less  fortunate  fellow-creatures.  If  there  is  much 
evil  in  the  world,  Mr.  Mordant,  there  is  also  much  that  is 
good.  America,  and  New  York  particularly,  lack  not  indi 
viduals  of  truly  charitable  natures,  to  whom  to  give  is  the 
greatest  pleasure." 

Mr.  Douglass,  who  was  a  philanthropist  in  the  true  sense  of 
the  word,  a  man  who,  although  possessed  of  but  moderate 
means  himself,  had  devoted  his  energies  to  the  cause  of  religion 
and  religion's  chief  beauty,  "  Heaven-born  charity,"  spoke  truly. 
There  were,  no  doubt,  many  amongst  those  whom  he  classed  in 
his  list  of  generous  benefactors  to  the  poor,  who,  like  Mr.  Mor 
dant,  gave  freely,  not  for  charity's  nor  religion's,  but  for  osten 
tation's  sake  ;  but  there  were  and  are  many  also,  to  whom  to 


230  THE  CABIN  BOY'S  STORY. 

give  is  the  greatest  pleasure  and  whose  life  is  spent  iu  seeking 
to  do  good.  Many  amongst  those,  who,  to  the  eye  of  the  world, 
seem  to  be  mere  votaries  of  pleasure — who  "  do  good  by  stealth 
and  blush  to  find  it  fame,"  especially  amongst  the  female  sex, 
whose  unwearied  labors  in  the  cause  of  charity  in  the  city  of 
New  York  and  other  cities  of  the  Union,  constitute  their 
greatest  charm  and  their  highest  glory.  It  has  been  our  pro 
vince  to  paint  various  characters  in  no  estimable  light  ;  but  we 
do  not  necessarily,  by  so  doing,  assume  that  there  is  no  virtue 
amongst  mankind — above  all,  amongst  womankind.  If  there 
is  much  fashionable  dissipation  and  frivolity,  there  is  also  much 
self-denial  and  much  expenditure  of  labor  in  the  cause  of  virtue. 
Long  may  such  labors  continue  to  shed  a  lustre  amongst  us, 
and  to  gild  the  gloom  of  the  Sodom-and-Gomorrah-like  dark 
ness  which  would  otherwise  overwhelm  us. 

But  this  is  a  digression.  Let  us  return  to  the  thread  of  our 
narrative. 

"  What  is  the  object  of  your  present  call  ?"  inquired  Mr. 
Mordant,  endeavoring  to  assume  a  pleasing  smile  and  a  bene 
volent  expression  of  countenance. 

"  Your  yearly  subscription  to  the  Bible  Society  is  due,  Mr. 
Mordant.  It  is  on  that  account  I  have  called  particularly  ; 
but  I  wish  also  to  bring  under  your  notice  the  state  of  distress 
to  which  a  poor,  and  I  believe,  an  honest  and  worthy  family 
have  been  brought  in  consequence  of  the  sudden  death  of  their 
only  support — the  father — a  mechanic,  who  was  lately  killed 
by  that  sad  steamboat  explosion.  He  leaves  a  sick  wife  and 
six  small  children  quite  destitute." 

11  Put  me  down  for  $25,"  said  Mr.  Mordanv. 

"  I  have  not  done  yet,"  continued  Mr.  Douglass,  smilingly  ; 
"  knowing  your  anti-slavery  principles,  sir,  I  thought  you  a  fit* 
ting  person  to  apply  to,  to  aid  a  few  philanthropists  who  wish 
to  purchase  the  freedom  of  the  wife  and  child  of  an  escaped 
fugitive  from  Southern  slavery,  who  has  happily  reached 
Canada  in  safety,  and  who  has  already,  by  his  own  exertion, 
saved  $200  for  that  purpose  ;  the  sum  demanded  by  the  master 
of  the  woman  and  child  is  $900.  I  am  happy  to  say,  we  have 
raised  $600,  which,  with  the  $200  saved  by  the  husband  and 
father,  who,  I  think  it  nothing  but  right,  should  contribute 
himself,  will  make  $800.  I  have  a  promise  of  $50  more,  in 
two  donations  of  $25  each,  and  I  thought  it  might  perhaps  af 
ford  you  pleasure  to  unite  with  us  in  the  good  work." 


THE    CABIN    BOY'S    STORY.  231 

"  I  will  give  the  other  $50.  I  fancy  I  saw  the  names  of  the 
other  donors  in  the  Journal  of  Commerce  this  morning  ?"  said 
Mr.  Mordant. 

"  You  did,  sir,  and  you  will  have  the  pleasure  of  seeing  the 
amount  of  your  own  generous  donation  added  to  the  rest  to 
morrow  morning.  Sir,  you  will  have  aided  in  causing  the  heart 
of  an  almost  widowed  husband,  and  a  father,  who  has  long  been 
deprived  of  a  father's  greatest  delight,  to  leap  for  joy.  Again, 
Mr.  Mordant,  I  say,  that  though,  thank  God  1  there  are  many 
— I  would  there  were  more  like  you." 

Mr.  Mordant  filled  up  a  check  for  $125,  and  Mr.  Douglass, 
having  cordially  grasped  the  merchant's  hand,  quitted  the 
room. 

"  Well,  I  have  got  off  comparatively  easy  this  time,"  said 
Mr.  Mordant,  when  the  worthy  man  had  gone.  "  One  thing 
is  satisfactory — all  these  donations  are  of  a  nature  to  appear  in 
the  public  prints,  and  the  trifle  will  not  be  lost.  But  really — " 

What  Mr.  Mordant  was  about  to  add,  we  must  leave  to  the 
reader's  imagination,  as  he  was  interrupted  in  his  soliloquy  by 
the  entrance  of  the  servant  again  into  the  room,  with  the  silver 
tray  in  his  hand. 

"  A  letter,  sir,  from  Mr.  Grindley,"  said  he. 

Mr.  Mordant  received  the  letter,  opened  it,  and  read  as  fol 
lows  : 

" Nassau  Street. 

"  DEAR  SIR  : — I  called  at  your  office  this  afternoon,  but  you 
had  left  before  I  arrived.  I  should  wish  to  see  you  alone  to 
morrow  at  eleven  o'clock,  A.M.  I  am  afraid  we  shall  get  into 
some  trouble  respecting  the  capture  of  the  Dolphin — which 
misfortuire  you  have  already  been  advised  of.  I  have  written 
this  evening,  in  order  that  you  may  not  make  any  other  en 
gagement  at  that  hour  to-morrow.  The  emergency  is  pressing, 

or  I  would  have  called  at Place  to-night  myself ;  but  I 

am  busy  raking  up  and  arranging  all  letters  and  bills,  etc., 
relating  to  that  unfortunate  vessel.  If  you  have  any  of  the 
documents  at  your  house,  please  bring  them  with  you  to 
morrow.  Yours,  truly, 

"  C.  MORDANT,  ESQ.  JOHN  GRINDLEY." 

The  merchant  crumpled  the  letter  fiercely  in  his  hand.  It 
seemed  as  though  some  dark  plot  to  effect  his  ruin  were  thick 
ening  around  him,  but  he  spoke  not  a  word;  he  sat  for  some 


232  THE    CABIN    BOV's    STORY. 

moments  absorbed  in  thought — then  burning  the  letter  by  the 
flame  of  the  candle  on  the  table,  he  threw  it  on  the  hearth,  and 
watched  it  until  the  last  glittering  spark  had  vanished,  and 
the  blackened  and  charred  fragments  alone  remained. 

"  I  will  go  and  join  my  family  in  the  parlor,"  thought  he, 
then.  "  If  I  remain  here  any  longer,  I  shall  go  mad — mad;" 
and  he  rose  from  his  seat,  extinguished  the  candles,  and 
descended  to  the  parlor.  He  found  his  wife  in  a  great  state  of 
consternation,  and  his  daughter  Mary  weeping  bitterly.  Mr. 
Mordant  was  usually  a  man,  outwardly,  of  calm  demeanor.  He 
seldom  gave  way  to  fits  of  passion — at  home  never;  but  he  had 
already  suffered  various  vexations,  and  now  that  he  had  come, 
hoping  to  forget  his  annoyances  for  a  time,  in  the  bosom  of  his 
family,  and  had  found  them  in  the  condition  described,  he  could 
no  longer  control  himself. 

"  What  is  the  meaning  of  this  ?"  he  demanded  furiously. 

Mrs.  Mordant,  without  uttering  a  word,  placed  an  open  note, 
beautifully  written  on  embossed  paper,  in  his  hand.  He  read 

as  follows  : — 

• 

TORONTO,  C.  W.,  July  11, 18—. 

DEAR  PAPA  AND  MAMMA  : — Forgive  your  erring  child,  I 
know  you  will,  after  your  first  flush  of  anger  is  past.  I  could 
not  live  without  my  Henry's  love.  And  he,  poor  fellow, 
threatened  to  drown  himself  if  I  hesitated  to  become  his  wife. 
And  he  would  have  done  so — I  am  sure  he  would — for  he  is  so 
romantic  in  his  notions  of  affection.  And  he  knew  that,  poor 
as  he  is,  you  would  never  give  a  consent  to  our  union.  Dear 
papa  and  mamma — he  urns  cdmost  crazy,  he  tells  me,  after  you 
discharged  him  from  the  house,  on  account  of  what  you  Considered 
our  imprudent  attachment;  and  when  I  went  to  my  aunt's  at 
Albany,  lie  followed  me.  He  used  to  watch  me,  he  tells  me,  at 
my  bed-room  window,  anxious  to  catch  only  one  glimpse  of  my 
form  as  I  was  about  retiring  to  rest,  for  nights  and  nights 
together;  and,  at  last,  he  ventured  to  meet  me,  and  speak  to 
me,  when  I  was  taking  my  walks  on  the  Troy  road — Suck  an 
object  of  pity.  I  am  sure  you  would  have  pitied  him  had  you 
seen  him — haggard,  and  pale,  and  shabby,  and  his  lovely  beard 
and  moustache  all  ragged,  and  actually  turned  red !  He  says 
the  color  changed  in  a  single  night,  for  love  of  me.  And  so 
shabby,  poor  fellow!  He  had  not  the  heart  to  dress  himself 
tidily,  thinking  that  I  scorned  him.  I  promised  to  see  him  the 
next  dav  at  the  same  hour.  What  else  could  I  do?  I  could 


THE  CABIN  BOY'S  STORY.  233 

not  witness  the  wreck  /  had  made  without  feeling  com 
miseration.  I  begged  him,  however,  to  attire  himself  with 
greater  propriety,  so  that  our  meetings  might  not  create  imper 
tinent  observation,  and  he  said  he  would  ;  but  in  his  frantic 
eagerness  to  see  me,  he  had  left  his  wardrobe  in  New  York, 
and  had  actually  come  down — only  think  of  that! — without 
bringing  any  money  with  him  beyond  what  he  needed  for 
his  travelling  expenses.  I  immediately  lent  him  the  hundred 
dollars  you  gave  me  when  I  left  home.  What  else  could  I  do  ? 
And  my  dear  Henry  '  looked  himself  again.'  When  next  I 
met  him,  which  was  on  the  following  morning,  even  his  beard 
and  moustache  had  regained  their  original,  glossy  black.  He 
said  it  was  the  reaction  of  feeling.  I  have  read  of  such  changes, 
in  poetry  ; — docs  not  Byron  say,  '  My  hair  turned  white  in  a 
single  night  ;'  and  dear  papa  and  mamma,  in  a  moment  of  love's 
intoxication,  I  consented  to  elope  with  him  to  Canada — and 
yesterday  we  were  married — and  now,  I  and  my  dear  husband 
sue  to  you  for  forgiveness.  My  dearest  Henry  has  disposed 
of  my  jewels  for  me,  to  supply  our  immediate  necessities — 
Pawned  them,  he  says,  that  is,  put  them  somewhere,  where  we 
can  get  them  again  when  we  have  the  money  to  redeem  them, 
which,  believing  in  your  affection,  I  hope  will  be  scan,  and  that 
papa  will  send  us  a  letter  inviting'  us  to  throw  ourselves  at 
your  feet  and  take  your  blessing  which  we  are  both  all  anxiety 
to  receive.  Dear  Mamma,  you  can't  think  how  Henry  is 
admired  here;  everybody  says  he  is  such  a  love  of  a  man;  but 
we  are  beginning  to  want  money  already.  So  pray  write  us 
soon,  or  the  hearts  of  both  Henry  and  myself  will  be  broken. 
"  Your  erring,  disobedient,  yet  still  affectionate  daughter, 

SARAH." 

"  P.  S. — Henry  wished  me  to  unite  his  love  with  mine,  in 
remembrance  towards  you.  The  dear  fellow  says  he  can 
readily  conceive  how  papa  should  be  angry,  on  finding  that  a 
humble  music  master  was  seeking  his  daughter's  hand — but  he 
can  just  as  readily  forgive  him.  Is  that  not  noble  and  self- 
sacrificing  on  his  part  ? 

"  P.  P.  S. — I  forgot  to  say  that  Dear  Henry  tells  me  he  is 
in  this  country  under  an  assumed  name.  He  is  a  nobleman,  and 
his  estates  lie  somewhere  or  other  in  some  place  with  a  strange 
name  that  I  can't  pronounce,  iifc  Germany.  He  was  driven 
from  his  country  in  consequence  of  his  having  taken  a  popular 
part  in  the  late  struggle  for  liberty  ;  but  he  hopes  some  day 
to  be  restored  to  them.  His  right  name — (he  has  written  it 


234  THE  CABIN  BOY'S  STORY. 

down  in  pencil  for  me  so  that  I  may  spell  it  correctly,)  is 
Ludwig  Von  Kemperblossen,  and  he  is  a  Count.  In  that  case, 
dear  papa  and  mamma,  your  erring  child  is  a  Countess.  Only 
think  of  that!  S." 

Mr.  Mordant  stormed  and  raged  furiously;  he  even  ventured 
so  far  as  to  break  out  into  several  oaths,  that  terrified  his  wife 
and  daughter — and  blamed  the  former  for  bringing  the  German 
swindler  into  the  house.  Poor  Mrs.  Mordant  began  to  weep 
as  freely  as  her  daughter,  and  the  merchant,  with  the  crumpled 
note  in  his  hand — rushed  from  the  room,  and  going  up  stairs 
to  his  library  again — locked  himself  in  and  flung  himself  down 
on  the  sofa — where  he  remained  throughout  the  night. 

The  mother  and  daughter,  after  weeping  their  fill,  retired  to 
their  bed-rooms;  but  not  much  sleep  visited  the  eyelids  of  the 
Mordant  family  that  night. 


CHAPTER     XXII. 

Which  treats  of  Strange  Matters,  involving  not  a  little  Mystery. 
IN  a  former  chapter  we  stated  that  the  U.  S.  ship  G- 


had  put  into  Sierra  Leone,  after  having  cruised  for  some  time 
up  and  down  the  coast  without  having  been  fortunate  enough 
to  meet  with  any  slavers ;  and  there  Miss  Herbert  was  provided 
with  a  passage  to  New  Orleans  on  board  an  American  bark 
that  fortunately  happened  then  to  be  on  the  point  of  sailing. 
Poor  Charlotte  was  glad  enough  at  the  prospect  of  reaching 
America  again,  after  having  so  long  been  tossed  about  on  the 
coast  of  Africa,  and  subjected  to  the  confinement  of  a  ship  of 
war,  which,  although  the  captain  sought  to  make  things  as  com 
fortable  to  her  as  possible,  was,  at  the  best,  no  very  pleasant 
abode  for  a  young  female  who  had  no  companions  of  her  own 
sex  on  board.  Still,  she  had  been  treated  so  kindly,  and  had 
met  with  so  much  attention,  that  she  could  not  help  feeling 
sorrowful  at  the  thought  of  parting;  and,  perhaps,  the  future 
that  she  had  to  look  forward  to  was  not  of  the  brightest.  We 
might  lift  the  curtain  now  and  disclose  it;  but  it  would  be  pre 
mature,  as  by  so  doing  we  should  forestall  the  events  of  our 
story.  She  had  formed  an  especial  friendship  for  the  young 
midshipman,  Thomas  Miller;  and,  although  she  was  not  likely 


THE    CABIN    BOY's    STORY.  235 

to  meet  with  any  of  Ms  friends,  bound,  as  the  vessel  in  which 
she  was  about  to  sail  was,  to  a  Southern  port  of  the  Union — 
the  young  man  had  obtained  a  promise  from  her  to  be  the 
bearer  of  numerous  letters,  which  she  was  to  post  in  New  Or 
leans,  and  had  also  intrusted  to  her  several  messages  to  be  de 
livered  personally,  should  she  chance,  by  any  fortune,  to  be 
placed  in  the  vicinity  of  his  home. 

The  bark  in  which  Charlotte  was  to  sail  had  loosened  her  fore- 
topsail,  and  the  anchor  was  nearly  apeak;  the  boat  was  along 
side  ready  to  carry  her  on  board;  she  had  bade  farewell  to  the 
captain  and  officers,  and  was  preparing  to  step  over  the  side  on 
the  ladder,  assisted  by  one  of  the  lieutenants,  when  she  recol 
lected  that  she  had  left  a  parcel  intrusted  to  her  care  by  young 
Miller,  in  the  gun-room,  and  she  stepped  below  to  fetch  it. 
The  young  man  was  on  shore  on  boat  duty,  and  she  had  wished 
him  good  by  an  hour  before.  The  parcel  she  went  in  search 
of  had  been  laid  by  the  youngster  in  his  chest,  and  he  had  de 
sired  her  to  lift  the  lid  and  take  possession  of  it  when  she  was 
ready  to  go.  It  was  a  packet  of  letters  to  his  mother  and  sev 
eral  of  his  young  friends  at  home ;  and  on  raising  the  lid  of 
the  chest  Miss  Herbert  was  surprised  to  see  her  ring  (as  she 
thought),  lying  in  the  till. 

"  How  came  this  ring  here  ?"  she  thought  aloud. 

"Ah!  I  recollect — I  must  have  dropped  it  while  packing  up 
those  papers  for  Mr.  Miller.  I  took  it  from  my  bosom,  where 
I  usually  keep  it  suspended  by  a  ribbon,  with  the  intention  of 
packing  it  in  my  trunk.  It  is  fortunate  that  I  happened  to  come 
for  this  package  of  letters  myself,  or  I  should  have  gone  away 
without  it,"  and  taking  it  up  she  placed  it  in  her  pocket,  as 
cended  the  ladder  to  the  deck,  was  assisted  into  the  boat  along 
side,  and  in  a  few  minutes  was  on  board  the  bark  Susan  Shoot 
er — and  sailing  out  of  the  harbor  with  a  fine  fair  breeze.  The 
sloop  of  war  Buzzard,  which  had  captured  the  Dolphin — after 
she  had  been  disabled  by  the  pampero,  arrived  in  Sierra  Leone 

while  the  Gr was  lying  there,  and  the  two  captains  met 

several  times  together.  On  one  occasion,  the  commander  of 
the  Buzzard  recounted  to  captain  P ,  the  particulars  rela 
tive  to  the  capture  of  the  prize.  "  By-the-by,"  he  continued, 
after  he  had  told  the  story,  "  we  are  close  here  by  the  hospital, 
suppose  you  step  in  with  me  and  see  the  two  negro  babies, 
which  I  brought  from  on  board  the  slaver.  They  must  have 
been  great  pets  of  that  atrocious  wretch,  Junot,  for  the  fellow 
had  them  hidden  in  his  own  bed  in  his  cabin.  They  were 


236 

soundly  sleeping,  poor  little  things,  when  my  first  lieutenant 
took  possession  of  the  slaver,  and  he  brought  them  still  asleep 
on  board.  They  soon  became  great  pets  with  my  crew,  and 
were  nursed  as  carefully — until  we  arrived  in  port — as  ever 
they  could  have  been  by  their  own  mother,  poor,  unfortunate 
creature,  who,  I  fear  now  is  sleeping  her  last  sleep  in  the  depths 
of  the  Atlantic  ;  for,  no  doubt,  she  was  one  of  the  miserable 
victims  of  the  incarnate  devil's  cruelty.  By  G — ,  sir,  the  man 
who  turned  evidence  against  the  scoundrel — it  makes  my  blood 
boil  when  I  think  of  it — that  man,  sir,  I  understand,  proved 
before  the  court  at  St.  Helena,  that  the  villain  Junot,  who 
murdered  in  cold  blood  the  whole  of  the  prize  crew  that  had  been 
put  on  board  his  infernal  craft,  actually  sunk  upwards  of  two 
hundred  negroes,  out  of  his  lee  port  holes,  not  an  hour  before  I 
came  alongside  of  him.  Had  I  known  the  facts  at  the  time,  I 
hardly  think  I  should  have  stopped  to  parley  with  him.  No, 
sir,"  and  the  captain  of  the  sloop-of-war  fairly  ground  his  teeth 
together  with  passionate  indignation.  "  No,  sir,  I  should  have 
poured  a  broadside  into  him  at  once,  and  sent  him  and  his  devil 
ish  crew  to  the  bottom  at  once ;  and,  if  I  should  have  done  wrong, 
why,  sir,  the  authorities  might  have  made  the  most  of  it.  How 
ever,  the  villain  has  met  his  reward." 

"The  scoundrel  deserved  his  fate,"  said  Captain  P ; 

"  but  come — where  are  these  said  negro  babies,  who  so  singu 
larly  escaped  the  fate  of  the  rest  of  of  the  living  cargo  ?'' 

"  Come  in  and  see  them,"  answered  the  captain  of  the  sloop- 
of-war.  "  They  are  in  the  children's  ward.  I  fancy  they  must 
be  twins;  and  they  are  as  pretty,  interesting  specimens  of  black 
humanity  as  can  be  found,  if  you  were  to  search  the  African 
Continent.  They  must  belong  to  a  superior  race  to  the  gener 
ality  of  negroes,  for  they  are  really  handsome  little  creatures — • 
black  as  a  coal,  but  with  beautifully  formed  limbs  and  sleek 
skins,  and  they  possess  the  finest  and  most  intelligent  eyes  I 
ever  saw  in  the  head  of  a  human  being." 

While  the  captain  of  the  sloop-of-war  was  still  expatiating 
upon  the  beauty  of  the  children,  he  and  his  companion  had  en 
tered  the  ward  of  the  hospital,  and  had  approached  the  cot 

where  the  infants  lay.  Captain  P was  himself  astonished 

at  their  beauty,  and  could  not  forbear  making  remarks  upon 
the  subject  aloud.  He  was  overheard  by  one  of  the  directors 
of  the  hospital,  who  happened  to  be  near,  and  this  gentleman 
joined  the  two  captains. 

"  Yes,"  he  remarked,  "  they  are  very  handsome  children. 


23? 

It's  my  opinion  they  belong  to  the  Yunga  Jagos  tribe — a  race 
of  negroes  remarkable  for  their  intelligence  and  physical  per 
fection.  You  perceive  that  although  they  possess,  unmistakea- 
bly,  the  negro  contour  of  feature,  there  is  nothing  coarse  or 
repulsive  about  them.  The  expression  is  softened  down,  and, 
but  for  their  color,  they  would  be  considered  handsome.  Now, 
I  have  seen  some  of  the  Yunga,  Jagos  women,  and  they  are 
really  beautiful,  if  one  could  get  over  the  prejudice  of  color. 
There  was  one  here  the  other  day,  brought  in  by  one  of  our 
cruisers  ;  the  poor  thing  had  either  sprung  overboard  or  been 
thrown  overboard  from  a  slaver,  of  which  the  cruiser  was  in 
chase,  and  the  man-of-war  picked  her  up.  She  was  greatly 
distressed,  so  we  learnt  from  some  of  the  negroes  here,  who 
partially  understood  her  language,  for  the  loss  of  her  two 
children,  who  had,  she  said,  been  shipped  on  board  another 
vessel.  She  told  about  their  having  been  thrown  to  the  lions 
on  her  way  down  from  the  interior  to  the  slave  coast,  and  sub 
sequently  picked  up  unharmed,  for  she  is  certain  she  heard  them 
cry  when  she  was  being  taken  on  board.  Now,  this  may  be 
all  fancy,  you  know,  but  it  is  a  singular  coincidence  that  these 
two  children  should  be  brought  in  from  another  slaver,  only  a 
day  or  two  after  the  woman  was  sent  to  Free  Town.  There 
is  something  quite  romantic  about  it,  and  I  have  sent  to  the 
governor  of  Free  Town,  requesting  him  to  send  the  woman 
back  here,  in  order  that  she  may  see  the  children,  and,  if  they 
are  hers,  they  will  of  course  be  restored  to  her.  I  promise 
myself  quite  a  tragic  scene,  I  assure  you." 

The  two  captains  left  the  hospital,  and  a  day  or  two  after 
wards  the  G sailed  for  the  southern  coast.  While  in  the 

Gulf  of  Guinea,  the  wind  became  light  and  baffling,  and  the 
captain  found  himself  driven  by  the  current  out  of  his  course, 
and  within  a  few  leagues  of  the  island  of  Annabon.  The  idea 
came  into  his  head  to  pay  the  lady  of  Annabon  another  visit. 

"  What  say  you,  Mr.  Miller,"  said  he,  jokingly,  to  the  young 
midshipman,  who  happened  to  be  on  duty  on  the  quarter-deck; 
"  would  you  have  any  objection  to  pay  the  fair  recluse  of  An 
nabon  a  second  visit  ?" 

"  Indeed  I  should  not,  sir,"  exclaimed  the  youth,  with  such 
vivacity  that  the  captain  was  greatly  amused. 

"  Well,  then,  we  will  haul  our  wind  and  steer  for  the  land. 
Get  yourself  ready,  and  I  will  send  you  again  as  an  avant  cour- 
rier  to  the  fairy  of  the  isle." 


238 

The  youth  needed  no  second  bidding;  he  went  below,  attired 
himself  in  full  rig,  and,  before  the  ship  was  in  sight  of  the 
inlet,  reported  himself  ready. 

"Then  jump  into  the  boat,  and  carry  the  lady  a  message 
from  me  to  the  same  purport  as  the  last;  and  mind,  youngster, 
don't  lose  your  heart  altogether  before  you  come  on  board  again." 

Young  Miller  descended  into  the  boat,  and  in  a  few  minutes 
sprang  on  the  beach,  and  hurried  off  in  the  direction  of  the  lo 
cality  of  the  cottage. 

In  the  course  of  an  hour  and  a  half  he  was  back  on  board 
the  frigate  again. 

"  Come  on  board,  sir,"  said  he,  giving  the  usual  salute. 

"  Well,  sir,  and  what  says  the  lady  ?" 

"  If  you  please,  sir,  I  can't  find  her." 

"  Can't  find  her!     Is  she  not  in  the  cottage  ?" 

"  The  cottage  is  no  longer  there,  sir." 

"  Why,  boy,"  said  the  captain,  laughing,  "this  witch  has 
driven  you  crazy.  Do  you  know  what  you  are  talking  about  ?" 

"  Yes,  sir.  I  have  seen  one  of  the  negroes,  who  speaks  a 
few  words  of  English.  He  says  that  the  Obeah  burned  the 
cottage  with  fire  from  heaven,  and  that  the  lady  was  spirited 
away.  The  negroes  have  all  left  the  neighborhood.  None  of 
them  will  reside  there  now  ;  but  I  saw  the  place  where  the 
cottage  stood,  and  the  ground  and  trees  are  burned  and  charred 
all  around  the  spot." 

"  By  Jove  !  the  boy's  crazy,  I  declare,"  exclaimed  the  cap 
tain  ;  but  observing  that  the  youth  looked  greatly  troubled 
and  perplexed,  he  added,  "  I  will  go  on  shore  myself.  Stay  in 
the  boat,  my  lads,"  addressing  the  men  alongside.  "  And  you, 
Mr.  Miller,  had  better  remain  on  board.  If  I  find  the  lady,  I 
promise  you,  since  you  appear  to  take  her  loss  so  much  to 
heart,  you  shall  visit  her." 

The  captain  went  on  shore  and  bent  his  footsteps  towards 
the  cottage,  and  to  his  astonishment  he  found  it  was  as  the 
young  midshipman  had  reported.  ]STot  a  vestige  of  the  re 
cently  lovely  residence  and  beautiful  garden  was  to  be  found. 
Even  the  cottages  of  the  negroes  in  the  vicinity  were  vacated, 
and  where,  but  a  short  time  before,  all  was  life  and  beauty, 
was  now  gloom  and  desolation.  The  captain  fell  in  with  the 
negro  who  had  furnished  young  Miller  with  his  information. 
The  man  could  speak  very  little  English,  but  the  captain 
made  out  that  he  believed  the  Obeah  had  carried  off  the  lady 


THE    CABIN    BOY'S    STORY.  239 

and  blighted  the  spot.  He  spoke  of  strange  sights  seen  there 
at  night,  and  endeavored  to  explain  many  strange  stories  of 
negro  superstition.  (Seymour  was  now  believed  by  the  simple 
negroes  to  be  the  Obeah — a  being  partaking  of  the  attributes 
both  of  a  god  and  a  devil — in  human  form).  "And  the 
Obeak,"  said  the  negro,  "  who  had  brought  the  lady  there 
many  years  ago,  and  who  was  so  mighty  and  rich  that  he  could 
make  people  bow  and  fall  dead  by  the  glance  of  his  eye,  had 
taken  affront,  because  so  many  white  folks  had  been  of  late  to 
see  the  lady,  and  he  had  cursed  the  place,  and  flown  away  with 
the  lady  in  the  midst  of  the  fire  he  had  created  by  his  breath." 
This  was  all  that  could  be  got  out  of  him  respecting  Zuleika, 
for  the  man  seemed  afraid  to  speak  on  the  subject,  and  threw 
frightened  glances  towards  the  spot  as  he  told  his  story.  This, 
as  the  reader  will  be  aware,  was  the  impression  Seymour 
sought  to  create,  by  removing  Zuleika  secretly,  and  burning 
the  residence  in  which  she  had  resided.  He  wished  to  throw 
as  much  mystery  as  possible  upon  the  matter. 

Captain  P ,  however,  had  his  own  opinion,  and  he  had 

no  doubt  that,  as  the  negro  had  said,  the  lady's  husband, 
father,  or  lover — what  or  whoever  he  might  be — -had  received 
intimation,  perhaps  from  herself,  that  visitors  had  grown  nu 
merous,  and  had  consequently  removed  her,  and  sought  to  cre 
ate  this  impression  amongst  the  negroes.  This,  however,  was 
not  all  the  mystery.  The  negro  added  that  the  Obenh  had 
sunk  a  vessel  in  the  bay  that  night  by  blowing  upon  it,  and  all 
but  one  man  had  sunk  with  it.  The  survivor  was  the  captain, 
who  had  somehow  made  his  escape,  and  had  been  seen  wander 
ing  upon  the  beach  the  day  afterwards  ;  but  the  negroes  were 
afraid  to  speak  to  him,  for  the  curse  of  the  Obea/i  was  upon 
him,  and  he  had  wandered  into  the  woods,  and  whether  he  had 
died  there  or  not  the  negro  did  not  know.  Perhaps  he  had 
gone  to  the  other  side  of  the  island,  and  gone  away  in  some 
vessel. 

This  was  a  strange  story  altogether,  and  much  increased  the 
mystery  around  the  White  Lady  of  Annabon ;  but  it  was  all 
the  captain  could  learn,  and  he  returned  on  board  the  vessel, 
and  related  the  tale  to  his  wondering  officers. 

"  If  you  please,  sir,  could  I  speak  with  you  alone  ?"  asked 
young  Miller,  touching  his  cap. 

"  Certainly,"  replied  the  captain.  "  What  do  you  wish  to 
tell  me — anything  concerning  the  vanished  lady  ?" 

"  Yes,  sir,"  answered  the  youth. 


240 

"  Oh,  it  is,  is  it  ?"  answered  the  captain  ;  "  out  with  it, 
then  ?" 

"  It's  a  long  story,  sir,  but  I'll  make  it  as  short  as  possible. 
This  lady,  whoever  she  was,  when  we  were  here  before,  sent 
me  a  letter  and  a  ring — " 

."  The  d — 1  she  did  !"  interrupted  the  captain.  "  That  was 
rapid  correspondence  and  quick  courtship,  in  all  conscience, 
seeing  you  had  only  seen  her  twice,  both  times  on  the  same 
day." 

"  Please  hear  me  out,  sir.  She  sent  me  a  letter,  and  a  ring, 
for  which  she  said  she  had  no  use,  as  she  was  my  sister — " 

The  captain  burst  out  into  a  fit  of  laughter. 

"  Very  reasonable  indeed  of  the  lady,"  said  he,  at  length. 
"  She  sent  you  a  ring,  because,  being  your  sister,  of  course  she 
couldn't  be  your  wife;  but  who  gave  her  the  ring,  boy  ?  You, 
I  presume,  on  the  occasion  of  your  first  visit.  Prompt  work, 
Mr.  Miller,  prompt  work.  Well  ?» 

"  She  wasn't  my  sister,  sir,  and  the  ring  was  a  ring  that  my 
mother  wore  on  her  finger  the  very  day  I  left  home." 

Again  the  captain  roared  with  laughter. 

"  The  boy's  crazy,"  said  he,  as  soon  as  he  could  speak. 

"Do,  pray,  sir,  hear  me  out,"  begged  the  youth.  ''This 
ring,  which  was  of  singular  appearance,  and  which  had  the 
first  letter  of  my  sister  Jane's  name  engraved  inside,  I  placed 
for  safety  in  the  till  of  my  chest.  I  have  never  looked  at  it 
particularly  since;  but  I  could  almost  swear  it  must  have  been 
there  yesterday,  and  I  always  keep  the  till  of  my  chest  locked." 

"  Well,"  interrupted  the  captain,  seeing  the  youth  hesitate. 

"If  you  please,  sir,  the  ring  has  been  spirited  away,  I  be 
lieve,  while  I  was  on  shore  just  now.  When  I  came  on  board, 
after  finding  that  the  lady  was  gone,  I  went  for  the  first  time, 
after  we  left  Sierra  Leone,  to  look  at  this  ring.  It  was  gone; 
and  yet,  since  we  left  port,  the  till  has  been  locked  and  the 
key  has  been  in  my  pocket.  And  what's  more,  it  was  locked 
just  now." 

"  The  boy's  mad  for  certain,"  said  the  captain.  "  How 
came  the  girl  to  know  you  had  a  sister?  Have  you  one.?" 

'•  I  did  have,  sir,  but  she  is  dead  or  missing — no  one  knows 
where." 

A  sudden  idea  seemed  to  strike  the  captain.  It  might  bo 
the  missing  sister  of  the  youth,  after  all,  and  she  might  have 
recognized  him  on  his  visit  on  shore. 

"  How  long  has  your  sister  been  missing  ?"  he  asked. 


THE    CABIN    BOY'S    STORY.  241 

"  A  few  months  only  before  I  left  home." 

"  Then  you  would  know  her  were  you  to  see  her  ?" 

"  Know  Jane,  sir!     To  be  sure  I  would." 

"  Is  she  anything  like  this  lady  ?" 

"  Like  her,  sir!  no  more  than  I  am.  She  is  taller,  stouter, 
and  of  darker  complexion."  The  idea  born  of  the  captain's 
brain  fell  to  the  ground.  The  recluse  of  Annaboii  could  not 
by  any  chance  have  been  the  missing  girl. 

"And  where  do  you  suppose  your  ring  is  ?"  he  asked. 

"  On  my  mother's  finger,  in  New  York,"  said  the  youth, 
"  where  it  came  from." 

"  The  boy  is  cerjtainly  crazy,"  thought  the  captain,  shaking 
his  head.  "  You  said  you  had  a  letter  from  the  lady,  as  well 
as  the  ring.  Where  is  the  letter  ?" 

"  Here,  sir,"  said  the  youth,  taking  the  crumpled  sheet  from 
his  pocket. 

The  captain  took  it  and  read  it,  aud  was  as  much  perplexed 
as  the  boy  himself. 

"There  is  some  mystery  about  this  I  cannot  fathom,"  he 
said.  "The  letter,  at  any  rate,  seems  to  be  genuine." 

He  gave  it  back.  "  Keep  that  letter,  Mr.  Miller,"  said  he; 
li  it  may  furnish,  some  day,  a  clue  to  the  history  of  this  strange 
being;  but,  for  heaven's  sake,  don't  tell  any  one  else,  or  you 
will  never  hear  the  last  of  it.  How  could  it.  be  possible  that 
the  ring  could  come  into  this  girl's  possession — or  how  could  it 
get  out  of  yours  ?  That  girl  has  bewitched  you,  and  you  have 
been  dreaming,  till  you  have  believed  your  dreams  to  be 
reality." 

"I  am  no  more  dreaming  than  you  are,"  muttered  the  youth 
to  himself,  as,  touching  his  cap  respectfully  to  the  captain,  he 
walked  away. 

The  captain  said  nothing  about  the  letter  to  the  officers,  and 
young  Miller,  finding  how  little  he  had  gained  by  informing 
the  captain  of  the  witchcraft  to  which  he  believed  he  had  been 
subjected,  kept  his  own  counsel  for  the  future.  He  determined 
to  write,  however,  and  after  telling  the  story  to  his  mother,  to 
ask,  if  for  any  time  during  his  absence,  she  had  missed,  or  laid 
aside  the  ring,  and  whether  she  still  possessed  it. 

For  a  long  time  after  this,  the  singular  circumstances  con 
nected  with  the  White  Lady  of  Annabon,  and  her  strange  and 
mysterious  disappearance,  were  fruitful  themes  of  discourse 
amongst  the  officers  at  the  mess  table. 

11 


242 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

i> 

Wherein  the  Scenes  depicted  are  laid  in  another  quarter  of  the  Globe. — 
The  Reader  is  introduced  to  Zuleika's  new  home. 

"  Know  ye  the  land  where  the  cypress  and  myrtle 
Are  emblems  of  deeds  that  are  done  in  their  clime, 
Where  the  rage  of  the  Vulture,  the  love  of  the  turtle, 
Now  melt  into  sorrow,  now  madden  to  crime  ? 
******** 

"  Tis  the  clime  of  the  East;  'tis  the  land  of  the  Sun, 
AVill  he  smile  on  the  deeds  that  his  children  have  done  ? 
Oh  !  wild  as  the  accents  of  lovers'  farewell, 
Are  the  deeds  that  they  do,  and  the  tales  that  they  tell." 

JSride  of  Abydos—  Opening  Canto. 

Two  months  had  passed  since  we  left  Zuleika  on  board  her 
husband's  vessel,  on  the  north  side  of  the  Island  of  Annabon, 
and  in  a  preceding 'chapter  we  have  mentioned  how,  in  his  let 
ter  to  Mr.  Mordant,  Seymour  stated  his  intention  to  resign  for  a 
while  the  command  of  the  Albatross,  and  go  to  the  Mediterra 
nean,  for  what  purpose  he  did  not  choose  to  tell. 

We  have  mentioned  also  that  Seymour,  at  an  earlier  period 
of  his  life,  had  been  engag-ed  on  board  a  Greek  pirate  vessel. 
In  the  first  instance  more  from  necessity  than  from  inclination 
— and  that  he  had  distinguished  himself  by  his  reckless  cour 
age,  and  acquired  his  thorough  knowledge  of  seamanship 
amongst  the  Islands  of  the  Grecian  Archipelago. 

At  the  entrance  of  the  Gulf  of  Salonica  in  the  ^Egean  Sea 
are  situated  a  group  of  small  islands,  comprising  the  north- 
westernmost  portion  of  the  Cyclades.  Many  of  these  islands 
are  fertile  in  the  extreme,  others  are  comparatively  barren,  but 
all  are  exceedingly  picturesque  ;  located  in  that  glorious  clime, 
and  on  the  bosom  of  that  sunny  sea,,  they  could  scarcely  be 
otherwise.  Most  of  them  arc  inhabited  by  fishermen,  generally 
of  the  Greek  race,  although  a  fe\v  Mohammedan  renegades 
may  be  found  amongst  them.  The  inhabitants  are  generally 
poor  ;  that  is,  they  possess  no  articles  of  luxury — they  need 
them  not — they  would  not  know  how  to  use  them  ;  but  poor  to 
destitution  they  are  not,  for  the  sea  that  washes  the  shores  of 
these  rocky  islets  abounds  with  fish  and  furnishes  an  abundance 
of  food  at  the  cost  of  little  trouble,  and  the  fertile  soil  almost 
spontaneously  provides  such  vegetables  and  fruits  as  the  appe 
tites  of  the  simple,  rude  islanders  require.  For  centuries  past 


THE  CABIN  BOY'S  STORY.  243 

the  Cyclades  have  been  noted  for  being  the  strong-holds  of 
pirates,  whose  deeds  of  valor  and  ferocity  have  been  the  theme 
of  many  a  minstrel's  song  ;  but  these  strong-holds  were  gene 
rally  located  amongst  the  more  southerly  and  larger  islands  of 
the  Archipelago.  On  one  of  these  islands — one  of  the  smallest, 
yet  one  of  the  most  picturesque  of  the  group — one  so  small,  so 
insignificant  that  geographers  have  not  given  it  a  name — Sey 
mour,  whose  earlier  career  had  rendered  him  well  acquainted 
with  the  tortuous  windings  and  intricate  channels  of  this 
beautiful  yet  treacherous  sea,  had  fixed  the  abode  of  his  fair 
bride,  and  scorning  the  uncouth  name  given  to  the  islet  by  the 
Greek  fishermen,  he  called  it  "  Zuleika's  Isle." 

He  had  sailed  from  St.  Louis  on  the  African  coast,  as  he 
had  intimated  to  Mr.  Mordant,  to  Marseilles  ;  thence,  still 
taking  Jane  Miller,  as  Zuleika's  companion,  he  had  taken  pas 
sage  to  Mileto,  where  he  had  purchased  a  Greek  felucca,  and 
having  stored  it  with  everything  he  thought  immediately  neces 
sary  or  desirable  for  the  comfort  or  gratification  of  Zuleika,  he 
had  engaged  a  crew  of  Greek  sailors,  and  himself  taking  the 
command  of  the  little  craft,  had  steered  his  way  amongst  the 
Cyclades  until  he  had  reached  this  island,  which,  from  its  posi 
tion,  its  fertility,  and  its  picturesque  beauty,  he  had  chosen  for 
the  new  abode  of  his  bride. 

Seymour  had  a  sufficiency  of  money  at  his  command. 
During  his  successful  career  in  the  slave  trade,  he  had  had 
abundant  opportunity  to  amass  wealth,  and  reckless  as  he 
appeared,  he  had  ever  cherished  a  hope  that  one  day — and  that 
day,  at  least,  before  the  noontide  of  manhood  had  passed  away 
— he  might  be  enabled  to  retire  from  the  sea,  and  perchance, 
reform  his  life,  and  spend  his  later  years  happily  in  the  society 
of  his  beloved  Zuleika  ;  consequently  he  readily  obtained  con 
trol  over  the  rude  and  simple  people  amongst  whom  he  was 
about  to  locate  himself  ;  and  before  he  had  been  many  days 
upon  the  island,  he  was  looked  upon  by  the  few  fishermen  and 
their  families  as  its  lord  and  master. 

At  the  door  of  a  small  cottage — which,  although  originally 
built  in  the  rude  style  of  the  huts  on  the  island,  had,  in  the 
course  of  a  few  weeks,  been  so  much  improved  and  beautified 
under  the  direction  of  Seymour,  as  to  render  it  not  only  a 
comfortable,  but,  in  comparison  with  the  other  habitations  of 
the  island,  a  luxurious  abode — one  evening,  about  a  month 
after  they  had  landed  and  taken  possession,  sat  Seymour  and 
Zuleika,  beneath  a  rustic  porch  tresselled  with  grape  vines 


244  THE    CABIN    BOY'S    STORY. 

and  honey-suckles  ;  before  them,  at  the  distance  of  a  few  hun 
dred  yards,  was  the  sea,  and  a  short  distance  from  the  shore  lay 
the  felucca  that  had  been  purchased  to  bring  them  to  the 
island,  and  which  was  still  retained  by  Seyuiour,  who  had  fre 
quently  made  excursions  amongst  the  "Thousand  Islands," 
with  Zuleika  and  Jane  Miller,  "since  they  had  taken  up  their 
abode  in  this  spot.  The  crew  of  the  felucca,  who  chose  to  live 
on  board,  were  singing  a  Greek  chorus,  and  the  melody  of  their 
voices — so  pure  was  the  air — was  distinctly  heard  where  Sey 
mour  and  his  wife  were  sitting.  Jane  Miller  was  wandering 
pensively  along  the  shore,  gazing  at  the  golden  sunset,  and 
admiring  the  beautiful  effect  of  its  fading  beams  upon  the 
water  ;  here  glistening  like  a  sea  of  molten  silver  where  it  was 
open  to  the  west,  and  there,  dark  in  comparison,  as  a  Lethean 
stream,  where  the  dark  shadows  of  the  craggy  islets  and  rocks, 
shut  out  its  dying  rays.  In  sooth,  it  was  a  glorious  scene, 
and  the  fairy  vista  and  the  sunset  hour  had  their  effect  upon 
the  minds  of  the  gazers.  Perchance  it  imparted  to  them  a 
tinge  of  melancholy,  for  both  sat  silent  for  some  time,  watching 
the  receding  orb  of  day,  sinking  like  a  ball  of  fire  into  the 
ocean,  deeper  and  deeper  still,  until  the  last  expiring  ray  had 
disappeared,  and  the  stars  shone  out,  and  the  moon  sailed  in 
queenly  beauty  through  the  transparent  atmosphere  ;  and,  as 
if  touched  by  the  fairy  hand  of  an  enchanter,  the  entire  scene 
appeared  to  have  undergone  a  magical  transformation — and 
now  the  boatmen  had  cea-sed  their  evening  song,  and  a  solemn 
stillness  pervaded  the  island,  unbroken,  save  by  the  gentle 
murmur  of  the  billows  as  they  broke  in  tiny  waves  upon  the 
pebbly  beach  ;  then  Seymour  spoke. 

"  And  how  do  you  like  this  our  new  abode,  my  Zuleika  ?"  he 
asked,  drawing  the  girl  closer  to  him  by  the  hand  he  had 
hitherto  held  clasped  in  his  own,  and  passing  his  left  arm 
around  her  slender  form. 

"  How  can  I  do  otherwise  than  like  it,  George  ?"  she  replied, 
"  am  not  I  a  Greek  girl  ?  I  know  not  how  it  is;  perhaps  it  is 
mere  instinct — the  effect  of  my  breathing  again  my  native  air 
— but  since  I  have  been  here,  I  have  been  happier  than  I  ever 
was  before.  I  like  the  savage  beauty  of  this  scenery — better, 
far  better  than  the  gorgeous  scenery  of  Annabon.  And  then, 
George,  you  are  here  with  me,  and  have  staid  longer  with  me 
than  you  have  ever  done  before  at  any  one  time.  Perhaps  it 
is  that  which  makes  me  so  lightsome  and  joyous." 

An  expression  of  pain  shot  across  the  features  of  Seymour, 


THE  CABIN  BOY'S  STORY.  245 

but  he  made  no  reply,  and  Zuleika,  after  sitting  some  moments 
silent,  continued — 

"  How  beautiful  is  night  upon  the  sea-shore!  Does  not  the 
vista  before  us  look  like  a  scene  of  enchantment  ?  Let  us  walk 
down  to  the  beach,  George,  and  join  Harry,  there.  I  think  I 
like  our  night  rambles  best,  and  yet  all  seasons  are  beautiful  as 
they  come.  I  will  tell  you  a  secret,  George.  I  have  written 
a  song  in  Spanish  and  tuned  it  to  the  accompaniment  of  the 
guitar,  and  to-night  when  we  return  I  will  sing  it  to  you." 

"  So  you  are  a  poetess?"  said  Seymour,  smiling  fondly  upon 
the  young  girl  as  he  rose  from  his  seat  to  accompany  her  to 
the  beach. 

"  Oh,  sometimes  I  try  to  write  down  my  thoughts  and  set 
them  to  music,  but  my  attempts  are  but  feeble.  ]  tried  to 
write  English,  George,  but  I  am  not  yet  sufficiently  mistress  o( 
your  native  tongue — so  you  must  translate  my  song  into 
English  poetry  for  me." 

"  Do  you  like  the  English  language,  Zuleika  ?" 

"  I  like  it  because  it  is  your  native  tongue." 

"  And  for  nothing  else  ?" 

"  Yes,  but  for  that  most;  but  I  like  to  read  English  poetry 
— still  I  think  my  native  Greek,  and  even  my  adopted  Spanish 
more  melodious." 

"Ah!  what  is  that?"  said  Seymour,  as  they  passed  by  a 
thick  copse  of  trees,  whence  issued  a  tall  female  form,  gliding 
past  them  almost  like  a  spectre  and  rapidly  disappearing 
amidst  the  gloom. 

"  It  is  that  strange  woman,  George,  who  comes  here  from 
one  of  the  other  islands,  to  dispose  of  mats  and  other  articles 
she  weaves  from  rushes.  The  fishermen  say  she  is  a  witch  and 
they  fear  and  avoid  her." 

"  I  have  never  seen  her  before,"  said  Seymour. 

"  She  has  come  several  times  near  our  cottage  when  you 
were  away  in  the  felucca — but  I  have  never  seen  her  face.  She 
seems  to  watch  me  closely  and  yet  to  wish  to  avoid  me.  I  should 
l)e  frightened,  George,  if  you  were  not  with  me,  to  meet  her  at 
this  hour." 

Seymour  smiled — "  I  don't  suppose,  darling,  there  is  any 
thing  for  you  to  be  alarmed  at  in  the  poor  woman.  Some  poor 
creature,  I  suppose,  who  has  become  childish  with  age.  The 
people  of  these  islands  are  very  superstitious." 

They  passed  on  to  the  beach  and  met  Jane  Miller,  who  was 
returning  towards  the  cottage.  She  turned  back  with  them, 


246  THE  CABIN  BOY'S  STORY. 

and  after  a  short  ramble  on  the  margin  of  the  shore,   they 
returned  to  their  abode. 

"  Now,  love,"  said  Seymour,  "  bring-  your  guitar  and  let  me 
hear  you  sing  the  song  you  spoke  of,  and  to-morrow  I  will 
endeavor  to  do  my  part  and  translate  it  into  English." 

Zuleika  passed  into  the  cottage  for  the  purpose  of  procuring 
her  guitar,  leaving  Seymour  and  Jane,  or  Harry,  as  the  young 
woman  was  now  always  called  by  Zuleika  as  well  as  Seymour, 
sitting  in  the  porch.  In  a  few  moments  she  returned  with  the 
instrument,  but  she  was  frightened  and  almost  breathless,  and 
laying  down  the  guitar,  she  threw  herself  into  her  husband's 
arms. 

"Zuleika,  darling,  what  ails  you?"  asked  Seymour,  while 
Jane  rose  from  her  seat  and  came  forward  anxious  to  render 
assistance. 

"  That  strange  woman  !  dear  George.  She  was  looking  in 
the  little  window  of  our  bedroom  when  I  went  to  fetch  the 
guitar,  and  she  shook  her  head  menancingly  at  me,  and  then 
disappeared." 

"  Poor  little,  timid  thing,"  said  Seymour,  kissing  her  cheek, 
"  you  should  not  be  so  easily  alarmed.  The  old  woman  can  do 
you  no  harm,  at  least,  while  I  am  here  to  protect  you;  but  I 
will  see  to  her,  darling,  to-morrow,  and  take  precautions  to 
prevent  her  returning  to  the  island.  No  doubt,  as  I  observed 
before,  she  is  some  poor,  half-crazed  creature.  Now,  where  is 
the  guitar,  dear  ?" 

"  You  will  excuse  me  from  singing  the  song  to-night,  dear 
George.  I  know  how  silly  it  is;  but  I  was  so  shocked  when  I 
saw  that  woman  shake  her  long,  skinny  arm  at  me,  that  my 
heart  flew  to  my  throat.  I  would  rather  not  sing,  to-night, 
George." 

"Just  as  you  please,  love,  but  you  will  sing  me  that  song- 
to-morrow.  I  must  hear  it." 

"  I  will  sing  it  as  often  as  you  please." 

"  Well,  then  we  will  retire  for  the  night;  the  sun  has  gone 
down  more  than  an  hour,  and  I  warrant  all  the  people  on  the 
island,  except  this  bugbear  of  an  old  woman,  are  fast  asleep. 
I  have  a  score  to  settle  with  the  old  witch  for  frightening  you, 
love,  and  depriving  me  of  the  song,  and  Harry,  too." 

"Oh,  Harry  has  heard  it,"  said  Zuleika,  looking  up  into  her 
husband's  face,  and  smiling. 

"  So  you  gave  him  the  preference,  eh  ?" 

"  I  sung  it  to  him  first,  that  I  might  be  able  to  sing  it  the 


247 

more  perfectly  to  you,  dear;  that's  all,"  said  Zuleika,  smiling 
archly. 

"  You  are  a  dear  little  flatterer,"  was  Seymour's  reply,  as 
they  entered  the  cottage  together. 

Ere  another  hour  had  passed  every  human  being,  save  one, 
on  Zuleika's  Isle,  was  wrapped  in  slumber — that  one  was  the 
mysterious  old  woman  already  alluded  to.  It  was  near  the 
hour  of  midnight  when  she  again  approached  the  cottage  and 
peered  in  at  the  window;  the  moonbeams  were  shining  through 
the  casement  and  casting  their  faint  light  full  on  the  faces  of 
the  unconscious  sleepers.  The  woman  gazed  long  and 
earnestly,  and  then  noiselessly  rettired,  muttering  almost 
inaudibly  to  herself  in  the  Romaic  dialect. 


CHAPTER  XXIY. 

The  Meeting  with  Marca— The  Ancient  Sibyl  of  the  Archipelago,  and 
her  Daughter  Zoe. 

THE  morning  dawned,  sweetly  as  the  summer  morning  ever 
dawns  upon  the  beauteous  islands  of  the  JBgean  sea,  which, 
blessed  with  a  fertile  soil,  a  beautiful  and  delightful  climate  and 
scenery  of  a  wild  and  savage,  yet  beautiful  and  enchanting 
character,  are  doubly  fascinating  to  the  educated  voyager,  in 
consequence  of  the  classical  associations  connected  with  them. 
On  one  of  the  group,  says  tradition  at  least,  was  born  the  prince 
of  poets  and  minstrels — lie  whose  strains  have  never  been 
equalled — "  the  blind  old  man  of  Scio's  rocky  isle."  On  an 
other  (fPatmoSj)  the  Apostle  St.  John,  wrote,  while  in  exile, 
the  inspired  Revelations.  All  are  more  or  less  associated  with 
the  most  glorious  recollections  of  classical  antiquity.  Now  the 
abode  of  poor  fishermen  and  desperate  pirates — they  were  once 
the  cradles  of  genius  and  human  progress,  and  he  who  can  sail 
among  the  extensive  group,  and  navigate  the  tortuous  windings 
of  their  channels,  or  can  wander  on  their  now  thinly  peopled 
and  neglected  soil,  with  a  heart  unstirred,  must  be  wanting  in 
soul — we  envy  not  his  stolid  frigidity. 

Zuleika  arose  with  the  dawn  of  day  from  her  light  slumbers; 
the  sun,  just  risen  from  the  deep,  was  casting  his  early  morning 
rays  through  the  window  of  the  bed  chamber;  the  sweet  briar 


248  THE  CABIN  BOY'S  STORY. 

and  honey  suckles  which  clambered  up  the  side  of  the  cottage, 
and  clung  in  graceful  festoons  around  the  casement,  diffused 
their  fragrant  perfume  throughout  the  room  ;  the  birds  sang 
their  blithe  and  joyous  matin  songs  ;  and  the  cool  breeze,  fresh 
from  the  sea  seemed  to  impart  new  vitality  to  the  vegetation 
and  an  air  of  gladness  to  the  scene. 

Zuleika  opened  the  casement  and  gazed  abroad  ;  the  sea, 
calm  and  smooth  as  a  mirror,  lay  before  her,  _the  sunbeams 
dancing  upon  its  surface,  and  dazzling  the  eye  with  their  bril 
liancy;  and  the  gentle  breeze  as  it  played  amongst  the  foliage 
of  the  trees  breathed  forth  a  sweeter  and  more  soul-subduing 
melody  than  any  that  art  is  capable  of  producing.  The  Greek 
girl  turned  from  the  window  and  stepped  to  the  couch  on  which 
Seymour  was  still  reposing. 

"  Wake  love — wake,"  she  said,  touching  him  lightly  with  her 
fingers  ;  "  see  what  a  lovely  morning.  It  is  a  shame  to  be 
sleeping  while  the  sun  is  shining  so  brightly,  and  the  birds  sing 
ing  so  joyously,  and  all  nature  looking  so  glad.  Wake,  dearest, 
and  let  us  stroll  down  to  the  beach  and  gather  shells  and  peb 
bles,  and  breathe  the  pure  fresh  air  from  the  sea." 

And  Seymour  sprang  from  his  couch,  and  snatching  a  kiss 
from  the  lips  of  his  lovely  bride  he  soon  prepared  himself  to 
accompany  her  in  her  favorite  morning  ramble. 

"  We  will  go  to  the  little  grotto  by  the  sea-side  beneath  the 
cliff,  where  there  is  such  a  delightful  view  of  the  gulf  for  miles," 
said  he.  "  And  Zuleika,  darling,  bring  your  guitar  with  you, 
and  you  shall  sing  me  the  song  you  spoke  of,  which  was  so  un- 
opportunely  interrupted  last  night.  It  will  sound  all  the 
sweeter,  love,  by  the  sea-side,  where  the  tiny  billows,  as  they 
break  upon  the  pebbles  and  roll  up  and  recede  from  the  beach, 
will  murmur  a  pleasing  chorus. 

Zuleika  took  her  guitar,  and  together  they  strolled  towards 
the  grotto,  which  was  distant  about  a  mile  from  the  cottage, 
and  was  a  natural  cave  worn  into  the  rock,  at  some  anterior 
period — perhaps  centuries  before — when  the  sea  must  have  en 
croached  far  beyond  the  boundary  of  its  then  high-water  mark; 
and  having  reached  it,  they  seated  themselves  upon  a  rustic 
seat  studded  with  sea-shells,  and  rendered  soft  and  elastic  by 
carefully  dried  and  prepared  seaweed,  which  Seymour,  assisted 
by  Zuleika  and  Jane  Miller,  had  amused  themselves  with  ar 
ranging. 

"Now,  dear,  for  the  song  you  promised  me — where  is  Harry, 
though  ?» 


THE  CABIN  BOY'S  STORY.  249 

"  He  left  the  cottage  before  us,"  replied  Zuleika,  "  he  always 
rises  early  and  wanders  into  the  wood  by  himself." 

"  Well,  then,  he'll   lose    the    song,  though,  by-the-by,  you 
told  me  you  had  already  sang  it  to  him.     What  is  its  burden 
darling  ?" 

"  It  is  merely  an  idle  song  relating  to  every-day  occurrences," 
answered  Zuleika.  "It  is  a  call,  for  you  to  rise  early  in  the 
morning,  dear  George  ;  such  a  call  as  I  gave  you  this  morning 
— oh !  you  are  a  sad  sluggard." 

"  I  believe  I  must  plead  guilty  to  that,"  said  Seymour  gaily, 
but  he  added  to  himself,  "would  to  God  I  could  sleep  as 
soundly  and  calmly  in  the  night  season  as  you — poor,  innocent, 
unsuspecting  child." 

Zuleika,  meanwhile,  had  tuned  the  guitar,  and  then  she 
sang  the  following  simple  song  in  Spanish.  We  have  given  the 
translation,  roughly  made  by  Seymour,  on  the  following  day — 
which  Zuleika  exerted  herself  to  commit  to  memory,  because 
her  husband  delighted  to  hear  her  sing  in  English — although 
the  task  was  no  light  one  to  one  who  had  but  a  short  time 
before  taken  her  first  lesson  in  the  English  tongue  : 

'Tis  sweet  to  wake  from  lovers  bright  dreams, 

And  see  the  sunrise  on  the  deep, 
Illuming  with  his  golden  beams 

Each  mountain  slope — each  rugged  steep — 
To  watch  the  shadows  of  the  night 

Recede  before  th'  approach  of  day — 
The  morning  mist,  so  thin  and  light, 

In  feathery  vapor  floats  away. 

* 

Rise,  love,  and  from  the  lattice  peep  ; 

Inhale  the  fresh  breeze  from  the  sea  ; 
Come,  dearest,  rouse  thee  from  thy  sleep  ; 

All  Nature  wakes — then  why  not  we  ? 
Arise,  and  let  us  stroll  away 

Along  the  margin  of  the  shore, 
Or  'midst  the  fields  and  copses  stray, 

Or  gather  wild  flowers  on  the  moor. 

The  birds  are  singing  in  the  grove  ; 

The  kids  are  skipping  o'er  the  lea, 
And,  from  the  cottage  thatch,  the  dove 

Coos  forth  her  sweet,  soft  melody. 
Cool  from  the  sea,  the  odorous  breeze, 

Fraught  with  the  perfume  of  the  flowers, 
Toys  gently  'midst  the  rustling  trees, 

Scattering  the  dew  in  mimic  showers. 
11* 


250  THE  CABIN  BOY'S  STORY. 

Then  come,  love,  ramble  forth  with  me 

Along  the  margin  of  the  shore ; 
Nature  rejoiceth— why  not  we 

Enjoy  the  glorious  uiatin  hour  ? 

'Tis  noon — high  noon  —the  sunbeams  glow 

With  fervent  heat ;  the  parched  earth 
Sighs  vainly  for  the  refreshing  dew 

That  ushered  in  the  morning's  birth. 
Now  languid  droop  the  trees  and  flowers, 

The  jaded  birds  have  hushed  their  song; 
The  let  us  pass  the  noon-tide  hours, 

The  shady  glades  and  groves  among. 
The  kids  that  in  the  meadows  played, 

Now  shun  the  sun's  too  ardent  rays — 
And  haunt  the  pools,  or  seek  the  shade, 

Deep  in  the  wood's  intricate  maze. 

Then  come,  love,  let  us  seek  the  bowers, 

Whose  shade  invites  us  to  repose — 
And  on  a  couch  of  sweet  wild-flowers 

Rest,  till  the  day  draws  near  its  close, 
The  balmy  zephyrs  softly  sleep — 

Stilled  are  the  leaves  on  every  tree — 
Nature  her  noon  siesta  keeps — 

Hie  to  the  bower  then,  love,  with  me. 

'Tis  eve — and  far  across  the  wave 

The  sun  hath  sped  his  Western  path, 
Seeking  his  fiery  orb  to  lave 

Deep,  in  the  ample  ocean  bath. 
With  all  the  prism's  various  hue. 

Gorgeous  the  many-colored  sky — 
And  in  a  sea  of  azure  blue, 

High,  o'er  our  heads,  the  moon  floats  by. 
Forth  from  our  bower  then  let  us  rove, 

And  ramble  near  the  silvery  sea  ; 
Rise  from  thy  long  siesta,  love, 

And  breath  the  balmy  air  with  me. 

Zuleika  ceased  her  song,  and  smilingly  looked  up  into  Sey 
mour's  face,  awaiting  his  approval. 

"  I  was  not  aware  you  were  so  pretty  a  poetess,  my 
Zuleika,"  said  he.  "  I  may  be  partial;  but  I  think  that  a  very 
pretty  song.  To-morrow  I  will  try  to  translate  it  into  Eng 
lish,  and  then  you  will  learn  to  sing  it  in  that  language,  won't 
you  dear  ?  I  am  afraid  that  my  humble  poetic  powers  will 
be  unable  to  do  justice  to  the  Spanish  composition.  However, 
I  will  do  my  best.  Let  us  return  to  breakfast,  love.  The  sun 


THE   -CABIN    BOY'S    STORY.  251 

has  been  up  two  hours;  it  must  be  eight  o'clock.  After  break 
fast  I  have  something  to  say  to  you." 

They  returned  to  the  cottage,  and  when  the  simple  meal  was 
finished  proceeded  to  busy  themselves,  assisted  by  Jane  Miller, 
in  the  cultivation  of  a  little  plot  of  ground  around  the  cottage, 
which  Seymour  had  staked  in,  to  form  into  a  garden.  Zuleika 
however,  bethought  herself  of  Seymour's  remark,  that  he  had 
something  to  say  to  her.  <v 

"  What  was  it  you  wished  to  speak  to  me  about,  dear 
George  ?"  she  asked. 

"  Come  into  this  little  summer  house,  darling,  and  I  will  tell 
you.  I  have  been  a  long  time  staying  with  you  in  your  new 
home,  Zuleika." 

"  Oh,  it  has  not  seemed  long  to  me  ;  'tis  but  a  few  weeks, 
Greorge,"  replied  Zuleika,  whose  cheeks  flushed  as  she  spoke  in 
a  tremulous  voice,  for  she  anticipated  what  was  coming,  and 
dreaded  to  hear  her  husband  say  that  he  was  about  to  leave 
her. 

"  I  have  stayed  with  you  longer  than  I  ever  remained  before, 
dearest,  since  I  left  you  at  school  in  Spain." 

"And  you  will  not  leave  me  again,"  interrupted  Zuleika, 
placing  her  hand  in  that  of  her  husband,  her  breast  heaving 
with  suppressed  agitation. 

"Zuleika,  I  must  ;  but  I  trust  it  will  be  for  the  last  time. 
When  I  return  again,  I  hope  it  will  be  to  remain  with  you  al 
ways,  here,  or  else  I  shall  take  you  with  me  to  America." 

Zuleika  threw  herself,  weeping,  into  her  husband's  arms. 

"Compose  yourself,  darling,"  he  said.  "Nay,  Zuleika,  this 
is  foolish.  I  thought  you  had  more  fortitude.  I  do  not  go 
immediately.  I  shall  yet  remain  here  a  fortnight,  and  I  shall 
leave  Harry  still  with  you  to  bear  you  company  till  my  return. 
Come,  dry  your  eyes,  and  let  me  see  you  smile — that's  right — 
that's  a  brave  girl.  Think,  dear  ;  when  we  meet  again  it  will 
be  to  part  no  more  while  life  remains." 

Zuleika  sat  for  some  minutes  silent,  endeavoring  to  subdue 
her  emotion^  her  head  resting  upon  her  husband's  shoulder. 

He  did  not  speak  to  her,  but  sat  awaiting  some  remark  from 
her  lips.  At  length  she  said  : 

"  You  said,  George,  that  you  would  leave  Harry  with  me; 
are  you  sure  that  he  will  stay  ;  have  you  spoken  to  him  on  the 
subject  ?" 

"  No,  dear,  but  I  have  little  doubt  that  he  will  remain,  if  I 
wish  him  to  do  so.  He  is  a  strange  boy — little  fitted  to  bear 


252  THE  CABIN  BOY'S  STORY. 

the  hardships  of  a  sailor's  life.  I  never  heard  his  history — 
it  must  be  a  singular  one.  Did  he  ever  speak  to  you  of  his 
friends  or  of  his  past  life,  Zuleika  ?" 

"He  has,  George,  and  it  is  a  strange  history;  but  I 
promised  that  until  he  chose  to  speak  of  it  to  others  himself, 
I  would  never  betray  his  secret.'7 

"  Be  it  so,  dear.  Keep  your  own  counsel  if  you  choose," 
said  Seymour,  laughing.  "  I  suppose  it  is  some  romantic 
episode.  The  boy  has  been  crossed  in  love,  or  something  of 
that  sort — eh?  Well,  he  is  young,  and  will  get  over  it.  Mean 
while,  I  don't  think  he  will  be  happier  anywhere  than  with 
you,  and  when  I  return  I  will  consider  what  I  shall  do  with 
him." 

"  But  you  have  not  asked  him,  dear.  How  do  you  know 
that  he  will  consent  to  remain  ?  You  would  not  wish  him  to 
stay  if  he  should  express  a  desire  to  return  home  to  his  friends  ?" 

"Certainly  not;  though  I  should  have  to  send  him  home  as 
a  passenger  in  some  ship  from  Spain,  or  the  south  of  France. 
But  I  will  speak  to  him  to-day.  Now,  dear,  let  us  finish 
planting  the  flower  bed  we  commenced  yesterday.  I  must  put 
the  garden  in  complete  order  before  I  leave." 

On  the  evening  of  that  day,  Seymour  took  an  opportunity 
of  questioning  Jane  Miller  as  to  her  wishes  with  regard  to 
returning  to  America. 

"  Harry,"  said  he,  "  in  a  few  days  I  am  going  to  leave  the 
island,  and  shall  proceed  to  the  south  of  France,  and  thence 
take  passage  to  America.  What  say  you,  boy — Zuleika  is 
fond  of  your  society;  she  has  no  one  with  her  but  strangers, 
excepting  yourself  and  Julia,  her  old  negress  attendant  from 
Annabon.  Do  you  wish  to  return  home,  or  will  you  remain 
with  Zuleika  until  my  return  ?" 

Jane  had  thought  much  on  this  subject.  Her  heart  yearned 
to  see  her  poor,  forsaken  parent  again ;  and  she  grieved  at  the 
consequences  of  her  past  conduct,  all  the  more  bitterly,  since 
the  interview  she,  unknown  to  him,  had  had  with  her  brother 

on  the  occasion  of  the  first  visit  of  the  G to  Annabon. 

Still  she  dreaded  to  return  as  much  or  more  thaij  she  grieved 
to  remain  longer  absent.  She  felt  that  she  had  placed  a  gulf 
between  herself  and  her  friends  which,  were  she  to  seek  to 
cross,  might  overwhelm  her.  She  had  committed  a  breach  of 
the  laws  of  society,  which  surrounded  her  with  as  many  diffi 
culties  to  combat  against  as  though  she  had  actually  been 
guilty  of  an  unpardonable  crime.  Deeply  she  deplored  her 


THE    CABIN    BOY'S    STORY.  253 

past  folly;  but  she  knew  that  having  strayed  from. the  beaten 
path  of  social  conventionalities,  her  return  was  impossible.  At 
all  events  a  longer  stay  with  Zuleika,  for  whom  she  felt  a  warm 
and  sisterly  friendship,  provided  Zuleika  herself  were  desirous 
she  should  stay,  would  give  her  time  to  arrange  a  plan  of 
future  operations;  besides,  she  pitied,  sincerely  pitied  Zuleika; 
and  then  her  woman's  curiosity  stepped  in,  and  claimed  a  por 
tion  of  her  thoughts-.  She  was  anxious  to  know  what  would 
eventually  become  of  the  loving,  unsuspicious  Greek  girl.  She 
therefore  replied  : 

"  I  -am  willing  to  stay,  Captain  Seymour,  if  Zuleika  is 
desirous  that  I  should  remain." 

"Then  I  can  tell  her  that  you  will  remain  with  her  on  the 
island." 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  You  are  a  good  lad,  Harry,  and  the  day  may  come  when 
I  shall  have  it  in  my  power  to  push  your  fortunes.  I  will  not 
forget  the  services  you  have  rendered  me — depend  upon  that. 
Now,  go  and  tell  Zuleika  the  determination  at  which  you  have 
arrived." 

The  day  of  Seymour's  departure  was  rapidly  drawing  near. 
The  felucca  had  been  got  in  readiness  for  a  sea  voyage,  and  it 
was  Seymour's  intention  to  proceed  to  Valetta,  in  the  Island 
of  Malta,  and  then  to  discharge  his  Greek  crew,  and  after  dis 
posing  of  the  felucca,  to  take  passage  to  the  South  of  France 
(Toulon  or  Marseilles)  and  thence  to  proceed  to  New  York 
and  ascertain  from  Mr.  Mordant  how  matters  had  prospered 
with  regard  to  the  Albatross  during  his  temporary  secession 
from  the  command  of  that  vessel. 

He  and  his  bride  and  Jane  Miller  often  cruised  around  in 
the  felucca  amongst  the  islands  in  the  vicinity  of  Zuleika's 
Isle,  and  occasionally  he  took  a  trip  alone  to  some  one  of  the 
larger  islands  for  the  purpose  of  procuring  such  articles  as  he 
required  for  the  promotion  of  Zuleika's  comfort  and  convenience 
during  his  absence,  and  which  could  not  be  readily  obtained  on 
the  islet  which  he  had  chosen  for  her  abode.  A  week  had 
passed  away  since  the  conversation  above  recorded  had  taken 
place.  During  that  time  the  old  woman  alluded  to  in  a  pre 
ceding  chapter  had  not  been  seen,  and  she  had  been  forgotten 
by  both  Seymour  and  his  bride.  One  day,  however,  Zuleika 
rushed  into  the  cottage  from  the  garden,  alarm  depicted  in  her 
countenance.  On  being  asked  by  Seymour  what  had  oc 
casioned  her  fright,  she  said  that  she  had  again  seen  the 


254  THE  CABIN  BOY'S  STORY. 

dreaded  and  mysterious  woman  cautiously  watching  her  from 
a  covert  of  trees  in  the  rear  of  the  garden. 

"  By  heaven  I"  exclaimed  Seymour,  "  this  is  unendurable;  I 
will  see  to  it  immediately,  love,  and  cause  a  stop  to  be  put  to 
this  annoyance;  although,  after  all,  I  imagine,  as  I  have  said 
before,  she  is  some  poor  foolish  creature  who  is  .an  object  of 
pity  rather  than  fear." 

He  walked  down  that  day  to  the  little  hamlet  inhabited  by 
the  fishermen  who  made  the  island  their  abode — the  only  ham 
let  the  island  contained — and  made  inquiry  regarding  the 
woman. 

"  She  comes  from  Lemnos,  Excellenza,"  said  one  of  the  fisher 
men,  "  in  one  of  the  boats  that  occasionally  visit  this  island, 
to  dispose  of  mats  and  such  like  trifles.  She  came  here  yester 
day,  and  departed  in  the  same  boat  scarcely  two  hours  since. 
Poor  thing  !  she  is  mad,  Excellenza,  the  evil  eye  is  upon  her." 

"  Do  you  know  any  harm  of  her — is  she  hated  or  feared  by 
the  people  here  ?" 

Hated!  no,  Excellenza;  but  she  is  pitied  by  some,  and  feared 
by  others  ;  but  there  is  no  harm  in  her,  I  believe.  There  are 
strange  tales  abroad  with  regard  to  her.  It  is  said  she  once 
knew  better  days.  Excellenza,  she  has  the  gift  of  prophecy." 

Seymour  said  no  more,  but  he  determined  to  go  to  Lemnos 
and  find  out  the  woman,  if  possible,  and  prevent  any  future  an 
noyance  to  Zuleika.  He  walked  along  the  shore  until  he 
reached  the  spot  where  the  felucca  lay  at  anchor,  and  stepping 
into  the  cobble  boat,  he  paddled  on  board,  and  ordered  the 
lateen  sail  to  be  hoisted  and  the  anchor  weighed,  and  in  a  few 
minutes  the  little  vessel  was  under  headway  for  the  island  of 
Lemnos,  which  was  just  visible  in  the  distance.  He  had  learnt 
from  the  fishermen  that  the  old  woman  was  called  Marca,  and 
that  she  had  suffered  from  reverses  of  fortune  to  such  a  degree 
that  her  reason  had  become  impaired.  Tradition  said  her  an 
cestors  lorded  it  with  sovereign  rule  over  the  larger  and  more 
fertile  islands  of  the  Cyclades,  and  that  she  herself  had  been 
the  bride  of  a  great  freebooter  chieftain.  In  the  course  of  an 
hour  the  felucca's  anchor  was  dropped  off  the  small  harbor  of 
Lemnos,  and  Seymour  went  ashore,  resolved,  if  possible,  to 
discover  the  abode  and  seek  an  interview  with  Marca. 

He  learnt,  by  making  inquiry  of  the  inhabitants  of  the  island, 
that  the  object  of  his  search  resided  in  solitary  seclusion  in  a 
wretched  hut  deeply  embosomed  in  a  dark  wood  a  short  dis 
tance  from  the  sea-side. 


THE    CABIN    BOY  S    STORY.  ZO^ 

11  But,  Excellenza,"  asked  his  informant,  "  what  would  you 
seek  from  the  dark  woman  of  Lemnos  ?  Marca  hath  an  evil 
eye,  and  a  tongue  prone  to  prophesy  terrible  things.  Beware, 
Excellenza,  beware." 

"  JSgou  sas  euxagistou  (I  thank  you)  for  the  warning,"  re 
plied  Seymour,  who  had  addressed  the  man  in  the  Romaic  dia 
lect — the  vernacular  of  the  islands  ;  "  but,  my  friend,  I  fear 
her  not;  nevertheless,  I  thank  you." 

The  fisherman  inclined  his  head  and  placed  his  hand  upon 
his  breast.  "  Excellenza,"  said  he,  "  Me  kanetee  megalen  timen  " 
(you  do  me  too  much  honor). 

Following  the  path  which  he  had  been  told  would  carry  him 
to  the  hut  of  Marca,  Seymour  found  himself  in  the  course  of  a 
few  minutes  deep  in  the  bosom  of  the  wood,  and,  about  half  a 
mile  from  the  entrance,  he  discovered  by  the  smoke  that  issued 
from  a  spot  where  the  trees  grew  thicker  than  common,  that 
he  was  in  the  vicinity  of  the  abode  he  sought.  He  approached 
the  spot  cautiously — he  did  not  wish  to  alarm  the  old  woman, 
and  besides,  he  felt  a  strange  sensation  creeping  over  him  that 
could  not  actually  be  described  as  fear,  and  which  was  yet  near 
akin  to  it.  Brave  as  a  lion  where  danger  was  openly  present, 
Seymour  was  still,  like  most  imaginative  persons,  a  little  given 
to  superstition,  and  the  strange  character  he  had  heard  of  the 
old  woman,  and  her  singular  desire  to  haunt  the  abode  of  his 
bride  when  he  was  absent,  troubled  him  ;  and  now  the  dark, 
solitary,  savage  aspect  of  Marca's  hut,  so  embedded  amidst  the 
thickest  foliage  of  the  wood  that  the  cheering  light  of  the  sun's 
rays  was  almost  shut  out,  and  the  glare  of  a  charcoal  fire  that 
was  burning  in  front  of  the  hut,  and  tinting  the  confined  land 
scape  with  its  lurid  hues,  presented  a  scene  eminently  calcu 
lated  to  awaken  any  latent  feelings  of  superstition  he  possessed. 
In  front  of  the  fire  Marca  herself  was  seated,  with  her  back 
turned  towards  the  intruder  upon  her  savage  solitude.  She 
was  attired  iii  a  loose  wrapper  of  scarlet  color,  and  of  coarse 
material,  and  on  her  head  she  wore  a  conical  woollen  cap,  from 
which  her  elfin  locks  escaped  in  long  tangled  ringlets,  and  al 
though  her  appearance  generally  betokened  extreme  age,  these 
tangled  elfin  locks  were  still  untouched  by  the  hand  of  time, 
and  streamed  down  over  her  scarlet  wrapper  in  vivid  contrast 
with  its  bright  color.  She  was  busily  occupied  in  weaving 
rushes  together,  and  at  the  same  time  superintending  some 
culinary  operation  that  was  going  forward,  in  an  earthen  pip 
kin,  raised  upon  a  tripod  over  the  fire,  and  from  the  closed  lid 


256  THE  CABIN  BOY'S  STORY. 

of  which  the  steam  was  rapidly  escaping;  at  the  back  of  the 
fire  a  huge  piece  of  half  charred  wood  was  sending  forth  col 
umns  of  suffocating  smoke,  and  this  smoke  it  was  which  had 
first  warned  Seymour  of  his  proximity  to  the  hut  of  the 
Sibyl.  Marca  neither  saw  nor  heard  the  approach  of  her 
visitor,  or  at  least  she  showed  no  sign  of  having  done  so,  for 
Seymour  approached  close  to  her,  and  watched  the  rapid 
movements  of  her  skinny  fingers,  as  she  pursued  her  avoca 
tion,  chanting,  as  she  did  so,  some  rude  Romaic  rhyme,  but 
she  neither  turned  nor  spoke  to  him. 

Seymour  cleared  his  throat,  and  coughed,  and  stamped  his 
foot  upon  the  earth,  in  hopes  of  attracting  her  attention. 
Still  she  neither  spoke,  nor  heeded  him.  At  length  he  ad 
dressed  her  with  the  usual  Romaic  salutation: 

"  Na  ze — na,  ze  (long  life),  good  Marca." 

"  Ti  opisete  kur  1"  (What  is  your  pleasure,  signer  ?)  she  re 
plied,  still  without  turning  her  head. 

"  I  have  sought  the  aged  Marca,"  answered  Seymour,  "  to  ask 
if  she  needs  the  assistance  of  a  wealthy  stranger;  I  come  from 
yonder  small  island,"  pointing  his  finger  in  the  direction  of  Zu- 
leika's  Isle,  although  the  old  woman  was  not  looking  at  him. 
"  I  have  seen  Marca  there,  seeking  to  sell  her  wares.  Such 
toil  is  unfitted  for  one  of  her  years  ;  I  would  render  her  posi 
tion  easy — say,  Marca,  how  can  I  assist  you  ?" 

"Signor,  you  speak  with  a  false  tongue,"  replied  the  aged 
female,  "  that  is  not  the  object  of  your  journey  hither;  I  knew 
you  would  come;  I  have  waited  many  years  for  the  appearance 
of  you  and  your  young  "bride.  Last  night,  when  the  stars  be 
tokened  that  it  was  the  hour  of  midnight,  I  had  a  vision,  and  I 
knew  then  you  would  come  here  to  seek  me  to-day  in  my  hut. 
It  was  for  that  reason  I  hastened  home  so  soon  from  the  island 
on  which  you  have  fixed  your  bride's  abode.  But,  signer,  strive 
not  to  deceive  one  who  has  dealings  with  those  wiser  and  more 
powerful  than  you,  and  who  can  penetrate  into  the  secret  mys 
teries  of  the  human  soul.  You  came  not  to  do  me  service,  but 
because  you  feared  harm  from  me  towards  your  dainty  bride. 
Is  it  not  so  ?"  she  added,  with  startling  energy,  springing  at 
the  same  moment  to  her  feet,  her  tall  wiry  frame  stretched  to  its 
full  height,  and  for  the  first,  time  confronting  her  visitor.  "  Is 
it  not  so,  I  ask  ?" 

"  And  if  it  is  ?"  replied  Seymour,  who  was  startled  by  the 
woman's  strange  energy. 

But  she  did  not  immediately  reply.     She  scrutinized  her  vis- 


THE    CABIN    BOY'S    STORY.  257 

itor's  appearance  from  head  to  foot,  muttering  to  herself  in  a 
soliloquising  manner,  as  though  she  were  alone,  and  unheard  by 
any  human  being. 

"Fair  to  look  upon;  goodly  in  stature,  tall  and  straight  as 
the  cedar;  but  though  fair  without,  blighted  at  the  core  by  the 
canker  worm  of  remorse.  Your  hand,  signer.  I  would  read 
your  destiny  more  narrowly  than  the  stars  allow  me,"  she  added 
aloud  in  the  startling  energetic  tone  she  had  before  spoken,  as 
she  took  the  visitor's  hand  in  her  skinny  fingers  and  intently 
scanned  the  lines  upon  the  palm.  Then  letting  it  drop,  she  mut 
tered  to  herself  in  a  dialect  unknown  to  Seymour,  and  stood 
gazing  vacantly  before  her,  apparently  heedless  of  his  presence. 

Seymour  felt  his  flesh  creep  as  he  gazed  upon  her;  and  fear 
ful  that  he  would  lose  command  of  himself  if  he  gave  way  to 
the  feelings  of  superstition  that  were  growing  upon  him,  he  re 
solved  again  to  address  her.  He  repeated  his  question  : 

"  What  if  I  have  come  hither  for  the  purpose  of  which  you 
spake  ?"  said  he. 

"  Nothing  but  this,"  answered  the  old  woman,  whom  the 
sound  of  her  visitor's  voice  seemed  to  have  aroused  from  her 
reverie — "  nothing  but  this,  that  your  visit  has  been  made  in 
vain.  I  seek  not  to  injure  the  harmless  dove  whom  the  falcon 
has  enticed  to  his  nest.  Fear  no  harm  to  your  bride  through 
me;  but  know  this,  that  were  I  inclined  to  do  her  evil  not  all 
your  power  could  prevent  me.  Man,  you  are  doomed.  You 
stand  on  the  verge  of  a  precipice,  and  one  false  step  will  im 
peril  your  life.  You  should  live  long  on  earth,  signor,  for — " 
and  she  approached  her  lips  close  to  Seymour's  ear,  and  hastily 
whispered,  "  you  know  that  hell  is  an  eternity  of  anguish  and 
horror.  .  Go,"  she  continued  aloud,  "go  home  to  your  bride. 
You  are  about  to  leave  her;  fear  not  that  harm  will  happen  to 
her  while  you  are  absent.  There  are  those  watching  over  her 
more  powerful  than  you  to  protect  her  from  evil  ;  once  again 
you  will  revisit  her,  and  then — but  the  fates  forbid  me  to  say 
what  then — my  tongue  is  tied.  Go,  signor,  go  ;  your  bride 
awaits  you  at  your  cottage.  Leave  Marca  to  her  solitude,  and 
fear  not  for  Bedita." 

Bedita  !  the  name  sounded  familiarly  to  the  ears  of  Seymour. 
Suddenly  the  thought  flashed  through  his  mind,  "  Bedita  was 
the  name  that  the  woman  of  whom  I  purchased  Zulcika  gave  to 
her — and  she  was  called  Zoe — can  this  be  she  ?  No,  impossible. 
Zoo  was  at  that  time  a  young  woman  herself,  and  that  was  but 
ten  or  twelve  years  ago,  while  this  woman,  Marca,  must  have 


258  THE    CABIN    BOY'S    STORY. 

numbered  seventy  years  at  least;  besides  Zoe  was  handsome — 
a  model  of  savage  beauty — yet  I  will  know  more." 

The  superstitious  fears  that  had,  during  the  interview  with 
Marca,  held  him  in  thraldom,  vanished,  now  that  the  reaction 
had  taken  place  He  resolved,  at  all  hazards,  to  satisfy  him 
self  with  regard  to  this  fresh  doubt  that  had  arisen  in  his  mind, 
and  he  entered  the  hut  into  which  Marca  had  entered,  after  she 
bade  him  return  to  his  bride.  But  it  was  untenanted.  It  con 
sisted  of  one  simple  room,  almost  destitute  of  furniture,  save  a 
rude  couch  and  a  piece  of  hewn  timber  which  served  for  a  chair. 
He  rushed  again  into  the  open  air;  he  sought  the  covert  of  the 
woods,  but  in  vain  ;  Marca  was  not  to  be  found  ;  and  after 
spending  half  an  hour  in  vain  search,  he  returned  to  the  boat, 
and  going  on  board  the  felucca,  returned  to  Zuleika's  Isle.  He 
met  Zuleika  and  Jane  Miller  on  the  beach  ;  they  had  seen  the 
approach  of  the  felucca,  and  had  come  to  meet  him. 

"  Whither  have  you  been  this  morning,  wanderer?"  playfully 
asked  Zuleika. 

"  To  Lemnos,  darling,"  replied  Seymour.  "I  have  been  to 
see  that  old  woman  who  has  two  or  three  times  terrified  you 
so  much.  It  is  as  I  said;  she  is  a  poor,  simple,  imbecile  crea 
ture;  you  must  not  be  so  silly  as  to  be  alarmed  when  she  comes 
here." 

"  I  dare  say  it  is  mere  folly  on  my  part,"  returned  Zuleika; 
"  I  shall  not  be  frightened  of  her  in  future." 

Seymour's  mind  misgave  him  while  he  spoke.  Yet  he  had 
the  ancient  sibyl's  pledge  that  she  intended  no  harm  to  his 
bride,  and  he  was  sufficiently  superstitious  to  believe  that  a 
pledge  thus  given  by  a  woman  such  as  she,  would  be  scrupu 
lously  observed. 

"  But  I  have  strange  news  to  tell,"  said  Zuleika.  "While 
you  have  been  absent,  a  party  of  fishermen  and  women  landed 
from  a  boat  from  one  of  the  islands  near  here,  and  amongst 
them  there  was  a  tall,  handsome  woman,  who  regarded  me  very 
earnestly.  Her  black  eyes  looked  as  though  they  would  pierce 
me  through,  so  intense  was  their  gaze.  I  thought  I  had  seen 
her  face  before;  even  her  tall,  upright  form  seemed  familiar  to 
me.  Yet,  where  I  had  seen  her,  I  could  not  tell.  Strange 
recollections — events  that  I  have  long  forgotten,  or  only  re 
membered  as  though  they  had  passed  before  me  in  a  dream, 
appeared  to  revive— and  then  the  thought  passed  through  my 
mind  that  this  strange  woman  was  Zoe— the  woman  who,  when 
a  child,  I  believed  to  have  been  my  mother.  I  had  no  reason 


THE  CABIN  BOY'S  STORY.  259 

to  love  her;  but  I  felt  as  though  I  must  rush  into  her  arms, 
and  beg  her  to  disclose  the  mystery  that  surrounds  my  birth ; 
but  she  had  mingled  with  the  crowd,  and  I  did  not  see  her 
again." 

"Mere  fancy,  darling,"  said  Seymour;  but  he  did  not  feel 
satisfied  with  what  he  had  heard.  It  seemed  as  if  some  mys 
terious  fate  were  gathering  its  folds  around  him,  and  he  felt  a 
strange  fear  that  he  should  find  himself  irretrievably  entangled 
in  its  meshes.  He  strove,  however,  to  shake  off  the  alarm  he 
really  felt,  and  resolved  to  hasten  his  departure  from  the 
island,  determined  that  this  should  be  the  last  time  that  he 
would  leave  Zuleika  behind  him.  Nay,  he  resolved  in  his 
own  mind  to  make  this  his  last  voyage,  and  on  his  return  to 
renounce  his  wandering  life,  and,  with  the  wealth  he  had 
amassed,  to  live  happily  and  peacefully  on  shore. 

His  arrangements  were  completed  in  the  course  of  a  few 
days  more;  and  now  the  day  arrived  for  his  departure.  He 
and  Zuleika  were  taking  their  last  morning  walk  along  the  sea 
shore. 

"  How  long  will  you  be  absent,  George  ?"  asked  Zuleika. 

"  Perhaps  four  or  five  months,  dear,"  replied  Seymour. 

"  It  grieves  me  that  you  should  be  obliged  to  leave  me  now, 
for  you  know,  George,  what  will,  in  all  probability,  occur  be 
fore  you  come  back,"  and  the  fair  girl  blushed  as  she  spoke. 

"  I  guess  what  you  allude  to,  darling,"  answered  Seymour. 
"I  shall  have  a  pledge  of  our  mutual  love,  a  bouncing  boy  or 
perhaps  a  miniature  .copy  of  your  own  dear  self,  to  welcome 
on  my  return,"  and  he  stooped  his  head  and  kissed  the  blush 
ing  girl.  "  Well,"  he  added,  "  if  it  be  a  boy  I  suppose  I  must 
leave  his  name  to  your  choice;  but,  if  it  be  a  girl,  darling,  you 
must  call  her  Zuleika.  Keep  up  your  spirits,  dear.  Julia  will 
be  a  faithful  attendant,  and  when  I  return,  recollect,  we  shall 
not  part  again  while  we  live.  We  shall  be  very  happy, 
Zuleika." 

"  I  hope  so  George.  I  shall  always  be  happy  in  the  knowledge 
of  your  love." 

This  last  remark  was  uttered  by  Zuleika  in  a  tone  of  hope 
ful  anticipation,  and  yet  there  was  a  tremor  in  her  voice,  and 
an  expression  of  anxiety  in  her  countenance  strangely  at  vari 
ance  with  her  usual  light  and  joyous  mood.  It  was  noticed 
by  Seymour. 

"  You  are  melancholy,  darling,"  he  said,  "  you  must  not 
take  my  present  parting  so  much  to  heart,  you  must  shake  off 


260  THE  CABIN  BOY'S  STORY. 

these  low  spirits,  and  strive  to  be  cheerful.  Think  how  soon 
five  months  will  pass  away,  and  think  of  our  happy  re-union 
then." 

"  I  will  try  to  do  so,  George;  still  I  wish  that  you  were  not 
going  to  leave  me  now." 

They  returned  to  the  cottage,  and  the  remainder  of  the  day 
was  spent  in  making  such  arrangements  as  Seymour  thought 
would  be  necessary  during  his  absence,  for  the  comfort  of  his 
wife. 

On  the  following  morning  he  took  a  tender  farewell  of 
Zuleika;  told  Harry  to  be  a  cheerful  companion  to  her,  and 
promised  her  attendant — the  old  negro  woman  from  Annabon, 
who  was  devotedly  attached  to  her  mistress — that  he  would 
abundantly  reward  her  on  his  return,  if  she  served  Zuleika  well 
and  faithfully;  and  then,  stepping  into  the  boat  that  was  to 
convey  him  to  the  felucca,  he  soon  reached  the  little  craft; 
her  lateen  sails  were  loosed  to  the  breeze,  the  anchor  weighed, 
and  Seymour  standing  on  the  raised  quarter  deck,  waved  his 
cap  as  a  parting  salute.  Zuleika  was  weeping  on  the  shore, 
and  Jane  Miller  was  standing  by  her  side  endeavoring  to  cheer 
and  comfort  her  with  words  of  happy  anticipation. 

A  crowd  of  fishermen  and  women  had  assembled  to  see  the 
felucca  get  under  weigh.  Was  it  fancy,  or  was  it  indeed  the 
tall,  slender  form  of  the  ancient  sibyl,  Marca,  who  stood  con 
spicuous  amongst  that  crowd  of  women  and  raised  her  hand 
and  pointed  her  long  skinny  fingers  toward  the  felucca,  whether 
in  menace  or  in  warning;  Seymour  was  unable  to  tell;  but 
again  his  superstitious  fears  came  over  him  and  he  turned  away 
his  head,  and,  in  a  hurried  voice,  gave  some  orders  to  the  Greek 
seamen. 

In  another  hour  Zuleika's  Isle  had  nearly  disappeared  from 
the  sight  of  those  on  the  felucca's  deck,  and  the  little  craft 
was  speeding  swiftlv  before  a  fair  breeze  on  her  voyage  to 
Valetta. 


CHAPTER   XXV. 

The  Return  of  Charlotte  Herbert,  and  her  Introduction  into  Mr.  Wilson's 
Family — What  arises  therefrom. 

CHARLOTTE  HERBERT  arrived  safely  in  New  Orleans,  after  a 
prosperous  voyage  across  the    Atlantic  from   Sierra   Leone. 


THE    CABIN    BOY'S    STORY.  261 

She  scarcely  knew  what  her  intentions  were  when  she  landed 
on  the  levee.  She  had  no  money  in  her  possession  beyond  a 

small  sum  which  Captain  P ,  aware  that  having  been  saved 

from  shipwreck,  she  must  necessarily  be  in  a  destitute  condi 
tion,  had  delicately  placed  at  her  disposal,  when  he  bade  her 
farewell  at  Sierra  Leone.  She  had  accepted  this  thankfully  as 
a  loan,  to  be  repaid  at  her  earliest  convenience  ;  but  she  had 
never  told  the  captain  anything  relating  to  her  history,  and  he 
was  not  aware  that  the  small  sum  he  had  lent  her  was  all  that 
she  possessed  to  save  her  from  utter  destitution.  He  naturally 
imagined  that  she  had  friends  in  New  Orleans,  or,  at  all  events, 
in  the  State  of  Louisiana,  and  the  money  he  had  lent  her,  he 
thought,  would  be  sufficient  to  carry  her  to  them,  or  to  support 
her  in  New  Orleans  until  she  could  hear  from  them ;  but,  un 
fortunately,  it  was  her  all,  and  she  arrived  in  her  native  coun 
try,  after  her  long  absence,  in  the  condition  of  an  emigrant  who 
has  no  friends,  and  who  has  to  work  his  own  way  into  some 
means  of  support.  Charlotte  had  friends  in  the  United  States, 
it  is  true,  but  she  was  distant  from  them,  and  she  did  not 
wish  to  make  herself  known  to  them.  She  almost  hoped  that 
they  thought  her  dead,  and  had  long  since  forgotten  her. 
She  was,  however,  a  well  educated  young  woman,  of  interesting 
personal  appearance,  and  she,  fortunately,  soon  after  her  arri 
val,  read  in  the  Picayune,  an  advertisement  asking  for  the  ser 
vices  of  a  young  lady  to  occupy  the  post  of  governess  in  the 
family  of  a  gentleman  who  held  the  position  of  guardian  to  two 
of  his  brother's  children — two  girls,  aged  respectively  twelve 
and  sixteen  years.  Happily  for  her,  her  manners  and  appear 
ance  enabled  her  to  obtain  the  situation,  without  any  other 
than  verbal  inquiry  being  made  as  to  her  ability  and  the  re 
spectability  of  her  family,  and  she  entered  upon  her  duties  still 
preserving  her  incognita.  The  Misses  Wilson,  the  two  young 
ladies  who  were  placed  under  her  charge,  were  amiable  and 
beautiful  girls  ;  but,  although  they  were  sisters,  they  did  not 
bear  the  slightest  resemblance  to  each  other.  Marie,  the  elder, 
was  a  tall,  pale,  dark-haired,  black-eyed  girl,  possessed  of  fea 
tures  of  classical  regularity,  and  with  a  sweet' and  gentle  ex 
pression  of  countenance,  although,  when  at  rest,  a  tinge  of  mel 
ancholy  seemed  habitually  to  overshadow  it.  <•  She  moved  with 
the  grace  of  a  queen;  and  although  she  was  naturally  reserved 
and  shrunk  from  observation,  her  beauty  drew  around  her  a 
host  of  adnr'-ers,  to  none  of  whom  she  appeared  to  show  any 
marked  prefer*,  ice.  The  beauty  of  Louise,  the  younger  sister, 


262  THE  CABIN  BOY  S  STORY. 

was  a  perfect  antithesis  to  that  of  Marie.  She  was  small  of 
her  age,  joyous  in  temperament,  impulsive,  and  quick  to  take 
affront,  but  as  quickly  appeased,  and  slight  and  agile  as  a 
fairy.  Her  complexion  was  delicately  fair,  her  hair  light  au 
burn,  her  eyes  blue,  and  the  ruddy  flush  of  health  and  spirits 
was  called  to  her  cheeks  by  every  passing  emotion.  Mr.  Wil 
son,  the  uncle  of  the  girls,  was  a  planter  of  considerable  wealth. 
He  was,  however,  a  man  of  cold,  calculating  disposition  ;  and 
although  he  fulfilled  to  the  letter  that  which  he  considered  to 
be  his  duty  towards  his  fair  wards,  he  seldom  mingled  in  their 
amusements,  or  seemed  to  take  any  interest  in  their  studies, 
beyond  asking  their  young  governess,  at  stated  seasons,  how 
they  got  along. 

Miss  Herbert  was  not  long  in  perceiving  that  some  deep- 
seated  sorrow  was  preying  on  the  mind  of  the  elder  of  her  pu 
pils.  Two  or  three  times,  entering  suddenly  and  unexpectedly 
into  her  apartment,  she  had  found  her  in  tears,  which  she  in 
vain  sought  to  hide,  or  even  to  restrain  ;  but,  although  the 
young  girl  was  evidently  fond  of  her,  she  never  would  explain 
the  cause  of  these  tears,  and  firmly  resisted  every  effort  made 
by  Miss  Herbert  to  induce  her  to  confide  to  her  the  cause  of 
her  distress. 

A  month  or  two  passed  away,  however,  and  although  Miss 
Herbert  herself  was  often  the  subject  of  melancholy  reflections, 
the  cause  of  which  the  reader  may  have  surmised,  she  was  as 
happy  and  comfortable  in  her  situation  as  she  could  well  expect 
to  be. 

On  her  arrival  at  New  Orleans  she  had  placed  in  the  post- 
office  the  letters  and  parcels  entrusted  to  her  charge  by  young 
Miller;  and  Mrs.  Miller  had  in  due  time  received  the  letters. 
About  the  same  time,  however,  she  received  a  letter  from  her 
boy,  direct  from  Sierra  Leone,  in  which  he  alluded  to  the  sin 
gular  story  of  the  White  lady  of  Annabon,  and  related  to  his 
mother  the  history  of  the  letter  and  the  ring,  asserting  boldly 
that  he  was  confident  that  the  ring  she  had  worn  on  her  finger 
on  the  day  he  left  home,  and  which  she  prized  so  highly  in  con 
sequence  of  its  being,  as  she  supposed,  a  memento  of  her  lost 
daughter,  had  been  in  his  possession  for  several  weeks,  and  had 
disappeared  even  more  strangely  than  it  had  come  into  his  pos 
session.  He  concluded  by  asking  his  mother,  seriously, 
whether,  during  the  period  he  had  been  absent,  she  had  at  any 
time  missed  the  ring. 

The  worthy  widow  knew  not  what  to  make  of  this   epistle. 


THE    CABIN    BOY'S    STORY.  263 

The  ring  he  spoke  of  she  had  constantly  worn ;  never  for  a  sin 
gle  moment  had  it  been  absent  from  her  finger,  even  while  she 
was  sleeping  ;  besides,  the  idea  was  preposterous.  The  poor 
woman  became  alarmed.  She  had  heard  of  the  deleterious 
effects  of  the  African  climate,  and  she  naturally  enough  came 
to  the  conclusion  that  the  boy  must  be  suffering  under  some  de 
rangement  of  the  brain,  and  that  the  whole  story  he  told  was  a 
mental  delusion. 

She  showed  the  letter  to  Mr.  Mordant,  who  told  her  that 
he  had  heard  of  the  island  recluse  from  his  nephew,  and  that 
as  he  was  about  writing  to  Sierra  Leone  himself,  if  she  would 
leave  the  letter  for  him  to  read,  he  would  make  such  inquiries 
of  his  agent  as  should  induce  him  to  see  the  boy,  if  the  ship 
still  remained  in  the  harbor,  or  should  again  visit  that  part  of 
the  coast.  He  agreed  with  her  that  the  boy  must  be  laboring 
under  some  extraordinary  delusion.  "  But,"  he  added,  "  my 
dear  Mrs.  Miller,  some  strange  mania  appears  to  have  seized 
all  my  correspondents  there  just  now.  T  have  just  heard  from 
one  of  my  sea-captains,  who  has  taken  some  mad  freak  into  his 
head,  and  gone  I  know  not  whither,  leaving  the  vessel  to  shift 
for  itself.  (The  widow  had  called  at  Mr.  Mordant's  office  in 
town  on  the  day  he  had  received  Captain  Seymour's  letter, 
announcing  his  intention  to  quit  the  Albatross  for  a  time,  and 
on  the  very  day  the  evening  of  which  had  been  productive — as 
the  reader  is  aware — of  such  a  complication  of  annoyances.) 
The  letter  was  left  at  the  office,  and  having  been  mislaid  by 
Mr.  Mordant,  was  found  and  perused  by  his  son,  and  subse 
quently  became  the  occasion  of  some  singular  misadventures. 
This,  however,  was  not  the  only  difficulty  that  arose  out  of  the 
abstraction  of  the  ring  from  young  Miller's  chest,  by  Miss 
Herbert,  under  the  impression  that  it  was  her  own.  She  had 
frequently  worn  it  during  the  voyage  home,  though  she  had 
reasons  for  not  doing  so  on  board  the  man-of-war,  and  had 
jiever  thought  of  looking  into  the  little  drawer  in  her  trunk 
where  her  own  ring  had  been  placed,  until  some  time  after  her 
arrival  at  New  Orleans,  when  she  came  upon  it  accidentally, 
and  was  perfectly  bewildered  with  amazement  on  finding  her 
self  in  possession  of  two  rings  exactly  fac  similes  of  each 
other.  She  puzzled  her  brains  for  some  time,  endeavoring  to 
account  for  the  strange  discovery,  but  failing  to  do  so,  she  care 
fully  laid  one  of  the  rings  aside,  trusting  that  time  would 
explain  the  apparent  mystery. 

We   will   now  return  tb  Mr.  Wilson   and  his   two  nieces. 


264  THE    CABIN 

About  two  months  after  the  first  connection  of  Miss  Herbert 
with  the  family,  she  was  sent  for  into  Mr.  Wilson's  study. 

<v  I  have  sent  for  you,  Miss  Herbert,"  said  he,  after  lie  had 
invited  her  to  be  seated,  "  to  inform  you  that  my  elder  niece, 
Miss  Marie,  will  soon  be  released  from  your  charge.  She  is 
shortly  to  be  married  to  a  young  gentleman  of  good  family  and 
excellent  expectations,  in  New  York.  I  am  well  satisfied  with 
your  conduct  since  you  have  been  in  the  family,  and  you  will 
continue  to  superintend  the  education  of  my  youngest  niece  at 
the  same  salary  that  I  have  hitherto  paid  you.  I  wish  you, 
however,  to  see  Miss  Marie,  and  to  reason  with  her  upon  her 
folly  in  objecting  to  the  marriage.  I  propose  for  her.  She 
knows  that  my  heart  is  set  upon  it,  and  it  is  her  duty  to  obey 
me,  and  her  interest  as  well."  He  pronounced  the  two  words 
duty  and  interest,  so  emphatically,  that  Miss  Herbert  could  not 
help  noticing  it  ;  but  knowing  the  planter's  stern  nature,  she 
thought  less  of  it  than  she  might  otherwise  have  done. 

She  replied  : 

"  I  will  see  her  as  you  desire,  sir  ;  I  have  been  pained  to 
notice  the  mental  anxiety  under  which  your  elder  ward  appears 
to  labor.  She  has  never  confided  the  cause  of  it  to  me  ;  but  I 
presume,  that  what  you  have  just  related  tome  will  explain  it" 

"  Perhaps  it  will,  Miss  Herbert.  At  all  events,  see  Marie, 
and  endeavor  to  reason  her  into  a  proper  frame  of  mind,  and 
warn  her,  from  me,  to  beware  how  she  risks  the  utter  ruin  of 
all  her  future  prospects  in  life." 

Miss  Herbert  quitted  the  presence  of  her  imperious  employer, 
and  immediately  sought  the  chamber  of  her  pupil.  She  had 
not  expressed  her  sentiments  in  the  presence  of  Mr.  Wilson, 
but  she  sincerely  pitied  the  girl,  and  she  resolved,  if  matters 
were  as  she  suspected,  that  her  influence  should  not  be  exerted 
to  secure  her  pupil's  life-long  wretchedness — for  life-long  wretch 
edness  she  felt  would  result  from  a  forced  union  on  the  part  of 
Marie  with  a  man  whom  she  did  not  love,  whom  she  perhaps 
hated  and  despised. 

Marie  Wilson  was  sitting  in  her  room  by  the  open  window, 
disconsolately  reading  a  note  that  her  guardian  had  just  sent 
her.  She  started  and  thrust  it  in  her  bosom  when  Miss  Her 
bert  entered. 

"  I  am  sent  here,  my  dear  Marie,  by  your  uncle  and  guar 
dian,  Mr.  Wilson.  He  has  told  me  of  his  intentions  regarding 
you,  and  has  desired  me  to  express  to  you  my  opinion  that  it 
is  your  duty  not  to  oppose  his  wishes;  far  be  it  from  me,  how- 


THE    CABIN    BOY  S    STORY. 

ever,  to  advise  you  to  adopt  a  course  which  must  result  in 
your  lasting  unhappiness.  I  suspect  that  the  intelligence  I 
have  just  heard  has  been  the  cause  of  the  despondency 
which  I  have  so  frequently  observed  you  to  be  afflicted  with, 
though  you  have  never  made  me  your  confidant.  Is  it  so  ? 
Is  this  marriage  upon  which  your  uncle  seems  so  deter 
mined,  so  distasteful  to  you  ?  If  so,  I  counsel  you  to  refuse 
to  obey  him  in  this  respect,  or  at  least  to  temporize  with  him. 
In  a  few  years  more  you  will  be  of  age,  and  free  from  his  guar 
dianship — I  believe  you  have  property  iri  your  own  right — and 
then  you  can  please  yourself  as  regards  one  of  the  most  impor 
tant  actions  of  woman's  life." 

The  tears  were  falling  fast  from  the  eyes  of  Marie  ere  Miss 
Herbert  had  done  speaking.  As  soon  as  she  could  control  her 
emotion,  she  said : 

"It  is  as  you  suspected,  Miss  Herbert.  Hitherto  I  have 
kept  the  secret  of  my  grief  locked  up  in  my  own  bosom.  It  is 
now  twelve  mouths  since  I  first  met  the  man  who  desires  to 
marry  me,  and  who  has  gained  over  Mr.  Wilson  to  advocate 
his  cause — nay,  more — to  insist  upon  this  sacrifice  on  my  part. 
He  was  then  on  a  visit  to  New  Orleans,  and  although  I  do  not 
know  the  particulars  of  the  case,  I  believe  that  Mr.  Wilson  is 
involved  in  debt  to  his  father  who  is  a  merchant  of  great 
wealth  in  New  York.  He  sought  my  hand  then,  and  was  by 
me  refused,  for  his  character  was  bad;  I  heard  sad  stories  re 
specting  him,  besides,  I  cannot  give  my  hand  without  my  heart 
goes  with  it.  But  he  was  not  to  be  thus  repulsed.  He 
sought  Mr.  Wilson  and  asked  him  to  give  him  my  hand  in 
marriage.  I  believe  some  infamous  covenant  was  entered  into 
between  them;  but  though  I  suspect,  I  do  not  entirely  know 
its  nature.  It  is  enough  that  I  must  obey — must  marry  a  man 
I  cannot  love — must  break  my  plighted  word  to  another — or 
— I  shudder  to  contemplate  my  probable  fate."  Again  the 
unhappy  girl  burst  into  a  paroxysm  of  grief. 

"  My  dear  Marie,"  said  Miss  Herbert,  endeavoring  to  con 
sole  the  weeping  girl,  "your  guardian  cannot  compel  you  to 
this  marriage.  You  overrate  the  power  his  trust  reposes  in 
him.  You  can  do  as  I  advise  you;  plead  your  youth,  refuse  to 
marry  at  present,  and  when  you  become  of  age  please  yourself 
as  to  your  choice  of  a  husband." 

"Alas  !  Miss  Herbert,  yon  know  not  all  my  sad  history. 
You  know  not  the;  humiliation  to  which  I  am  exposed.  You 
think  me  the  niece  of  Mr.  Wilson  and  tho  sister  of  Louise;  so 

J2 


266  THE  CABIN  BOY'S  STORY. 

in  one  sense  I  am;  but  the  mother  of  Louise  was  not  my  mo 
ther.  I  am  the  daughter — why  should  I  blush  to  own  it — I 
am  the  daughter  of  a  favorite  quadroon  slave  who  belonged  to 
Mr.  Wilson's  wife,  and  who  died  shortly  after  her  mistress  It 
is  only  since  I  have  been  urged  to  marry  Charles  Mordant  that 
I  have  been  told  this — I  am  the  property,  body  and  soul,  of 
my  guardian,  as  the  world  believes  him  to  be,  so  at  least  he 
says;  and  he  threatens — yes,  even  in  this  letter  he  has  sent  me 
to-day,  which  I  was  reading  when  you  entered — he  threatens, 
unless  I  consent  immediately  to  follow  his  wishes,  to  declare 
my  parentage  to  the  world,  and  to  dispose  of  me  as  his  slave — 
so  he  has  the  cruelty  to  tell  me — to  the  highest  bidder.  Oh  ! 
God,  to  what  a  state  of  wretchedness  am  I  reduced." 

At  the  name  of  Charles  Mordant,  Miss  Herbert  had  started 
and  turned  pale.  For  some  time  she  could  not  trust  herself 
to  speak;  but  with  a  violent  eifort  she  subdued  her  emotion,  and 
said  in  a  husky  voice  which,  had  Marie  not  been  suffering 
"  woes  all  her  own,"  she  must  have  noticed. 

"But  when  Mr.  Wilson's  brother,  your  father,  died,  did  he 
not  leave  you  any  property  ?  Are  you  sure  he  did  not  during 
his  life-time  purchase  your  freedom  ?" 

"  I  know  not.  He  died  suddenly.  He  was  as  fond  of  me 
as  he  was  of  my  sister  Louise,  the  daughter  of  his  wife  whom 
he  married,  I  am  told,  about  a  year  after  I  was  born.  Louise's 
mother,  whom  I  always  supposed  to  be  my  mother  likewise, 
treated  me  as  though  I  were  her  own  daughter;  and  we  were 
led  to  suppose  by  our  father,  I  and  Louise,  that  his  large  pro 
perty  was  to  be  divided  between  us  in  equal  portions.  Now, 
my  uncle  tells  me  my  father  left  no  will,  and  Louise  is  his  only 
heiress,  and  that  I  am  subject  entirely  to  his  will  and  pleasure. 
He  says  if  I  consent  to  marry  Charles  Mordant,  I  shall  have 
my  share;  otherwise  — — ,  I  cannot  say  what  he  threatened  me 
with  otherwise.  It  is  too  dreadful  a  fate." 

"  Poor  child,"  said  Miss  Herbert,  "  I  could  not  have  thought 
such  iniquity  existed  on  this  earth;  but,  Marie,  I  can  save 
you  from  this  dreaded  fate — at  least  from  marriage  with 
Charles  Mordant.  He  is  my  husband !  He  gained  my  affec 
tions  when  an  artless,  unsuspecting  girl.  Not  long  ago,"  she 
added,  smiling  mournfully — "but  it  appears  to  me  that  I  have 
grown  prematurely  aged — he  gained  his  ends  by  going  through 
the  ceremony  of  what  lie  thought  was  a  false  marriage.  I 
sometime  afterwards,  when  he  taunted  me  with  it,  thought  so 
too,  and  was  almost  driven  to  insanity.  I  fled  to  New  Orleans, 


THE  CABIN  BOY's  STORY.  267 

and  after  subsisting  on  the  sale  of  ray  jewels  for  some  time,  I 
engaged  as  stewardess,  heedless  almost  what  became  of  me,  on 
board  a  vessel  bound  to  Liverpool;  the 'vessel  was  wrecked, 
but  my  life  was  saved.  However,  that  is  nothing  to  the  pur 
pose  now.  After  my  return  to  New  Orleans,  and  not  more 
than  a  month  ago,  I  met  the  man  who  had  played  me  false, 
pretending  to  have  been  a  Baptist  clergyman.  I  recognized,  and 
would  have  avoided  him.  He  was  accompanied  by  another 
person,  whom  I  also  recognized  as  having  been  present  at  the 
ceremony.  They  stopped  me.  It  was  in  a  lonely  place;  and  I 
could  not  escape  them;  but  they  told  me  they  wished  me  no 
harm;  on  the  contrary,  what  they  had  to  say  would  be  to  my 
benefit.  I  was  compelled  to  listen.  Then  they  told  me  that 
Mr.  Mordant  had  persuaded  a  young  man,  not  the  one  who 
married  us,  but  he  who  was  present  with  him,  to  personate  a 
clergyman  on  the  occasion  of  what  I  thought  was  to  be  our 
wedding,  and  thus  cruelly  to  deceive  me;  but,  though  a  pre 
tended  friend,  this  man  was  a  secret  enemy  of  Charles,  who 
had  treated  him  with  contempt  and  scorn  in  the  presence  of 
some  of  his  aristocratic  companions.  He  therefore  sought  re 
venge  by  procuring  the  assistance  of  another  person — a  magis 
trate,  though  I  fear  me  he  was  an  unworthy  one,  to  sign  the 
contract;  and  on  the  evening  when  the  disgraceful  and  cruel 
trick  was  to  be  played,  Charles's  friend  pretended  sickness,  and 
the  entire  ceremony  was  performed  by  the  other;  since  then 
the  breach  between  these  two  men  and  Charles  Mordant  has 
widened.  They  would  now  willingly  do  anything  to  injure  his 
future  prospects,  and  they  wished  me  to  unite  with  them  in  ex 
posing  him.  I  refused.  I  scarcely  knew  what  to  do  or  how 
to  act.  But  I  am  now  decided.  Dear  Marie,  my  name  is  not 
Charlotte  Herbert,  but  Jeanette  Dixon,  and  Mr.  Wilson  can 
not  force  this  hateful  marriage  upon  you — for,  as  I  said  before, 
Charles  Mordant  is  my  husband;  and,  thank  God  !  when  I 
was  cast  adrift  upon  the  ocean,  the  written  contract  which 
proves  my  marriage,  was  saved;  I  kept  it  in  a  purse  which  I 
wore  suspended  from  my  neck.  It  was  damaged  by  the  water, 
but  it  is  still  legible." 

She  drew  a  purse  from  her  pocket,  and  took  thence  a  torn 
and  stained  paper — almost  rotten,  and  ready  to  fall  into  frag 
ments;  but  the  marriage  contract  of  Charles  Mordant  and 
Jeanette  Dixon,  legally  attested  and  signed  by  a  magistrate,' 
in  the  presence  of  witnesses,  was  distinctly  legible. 


268  THE    CABIN    BOY'S    STORY. 

"  Thank  God  !  I  am  saved,"  exclaimed  Marie,  throwing  her 
arms  around  Jeanette  Dixon's  neck. 


CHAPTER   XXVI. 

An  Essay  on  Familiarity  with  Death — Captain  James  is  Rewarded  for  his 
Kindness  to  the  Yunga  Jagos  Negress. 

WHO,  that  has  visited  Sierra  Leone  (the  Land  of  Lions),  the 
capital  of  Her  Britannic  Majesty's  possessions  in  Western 
Africa,  would  think,  as,  newly  arrived  from  the  calm  monoto 
nous  seas  of  the  tropics,  he  gazes  with  admiration  and  delight 
upon  the  brilliant  scenery  of  the  coast  upon  which  this  capital 
is  situated,  that  the  soil,  laden  with  vegetable  wealth  of  the 
richest  and  most  gorgeous  description,  was  pregnant  with  the 
seeds  of  a  malaria  that  is  almost  always  fatal  to  the  health  of 
the  European  residents  ?  Who  would  think  that  the  atmos 
phere,  redolent  with  aromatic  perfume,  was  filled  with  minute 
globules  of  poisonous  vapor,  which,  to  inhale,  is  to  sow  the 
seeds  of  disease  and  death  ?  Who  that  lands  on  that  shore,  and 
promenades  the  clean,  well  laid  out,  and  elevated  streets,  lined 
with  villas  surrounded  with  balconies,  rendered  gay  and  pleas 
ing  to  the  eye  in  consequence  of  their  light  and  tasteful  struc 
ture;  the  cleanliness  of  their  white  walls  and  the  neatness  of  the 
broad  green  jalousies,  which  serve  instead  of  glass  windows  in 
this  sultry  clime,  prettily  as  they  stand  amongst  the  gaily  ar 
ranged  gardens  and  shrubberies.  Who  would  think  that  these 
light  arid  fairy-like  structures  were  so  often  the  domicils  of  dis 
ease  and  death  ?  and  that  at  certain  seasons  of  the  year,  beau 
tiful  as  they  appear  without,  they  are  changed  to  lazar  houses 
within,  while  the  families  who  inhabit  them,  rapidly,  one  after 
another,  pass  from  these  beautiful  and  luxurious  abodes  to  the 
dark  earthen  walls  of  the  narrow  tomb! 

High  above  the  town,  situated  on  the  summit  of  a  steep  hill 
— located  there  for  the  purpose  of  ensuring  to  the  residents  a 
bountiful  supply  of  the  purest  air  that  can  be  obtained,  al 
though  it  is  a  question  whether  the  boon  is  not  too  dearly 
earned  by  the  toil  (in  this  hot  climate)  that  it  requires  to 
reach  the  heights — stand  the  barracks  and  the  hospital — the 
former  often  scantily  tenanted  ;  the  wards  of  the  latter,  not- 


THE  CABIN  BOY'S  STORY.  269 

withstanding  its  inmates  rapidly  pass  from  it,  generally  well 
filled;  the  ranks  of  invalids,  however  fast  they  may  be  thinned 
by  death,  being  quickly  recruited  by  fresh  candidates  for  ad 
mission. 

Yet,  it  is  a  strange  fact,  that  the  more  man  witnesses  of  dis 
ease  and  death — the  more  he  is  exposed  to  either — the  less  he 
thinks  of  them — the  more  careless  and  reckless  he  becomes — 
the  less  he  grieves  for  the  loss  of  those  he  claims  as  his  friends. 
He  becomes  a  believer  in  the  doctrine  of  manifest  destiny;  and 
if  he  or  his  friends  are  to  die,  so  it  must  be,  he  says;  it  is  use 
less  to  try  to  avert  the  doom  ;  it  is  cowardly  to  fear  it,  and 
childish  to  give  way  to  useless  grief. 

This  feeling  is  apparent  as  well  on  the  battle-field,  and  on 
the  deck  of  the  ship  in  an  engagement,  as  when  exposed  to  the 
malarious  influences  of  an  unhealthy  climate.  It  is  no  uncom 
mon  thing  to  see  an  officer  rise  suddenly  from  the  mess-table — • 
where,  perhaps,  ten  minutes  before  he  had  been  entertaining 
his  comrades  with  some  pleasant  jest,  though,  perchance,  an 
oft-repeated  tale,  or  has  joined  loudest  in  the  mirth  occasioned 
by  the  jest  of  one  of  his  neighbors — and,  with  pallid  features, 
quit  the  room,  and  seek  his  own  apartment — and  the  cause  is 
well  known ;  a  negro  attendant  may  follow  his  master  from  the 
mess-room,  but  not  one  of  his  friends  think  it  necessary  to  in 
quire  what  is  the  matter.  Perhaps  the  exit  of  the  stricken  one 
is  unheeded — perchance  it  calls  forth  the  quiet  though  pointed 

remark,  "  So is  in  for  Yellow  Jack."  The  chances  are 

two  to  one  that  the  victim  of  the  yellow  fever  never  rejoins 
that  mess-table;  still  the  jest  passes  round  with  the  bottle,  and 
sentiments  are  given  and  toasts  proposed,  and  even  disease  and 
death  are  made  a  joke  of ;  and,  with  reckless  bravado,  some 
incipient  hero  drinks  to  "  Rapid  promotion  and  a  sickly  sea 
son"  Promotion  through  the  death  of  his  comrade!  Still, 
there  is  no  evil  aforethought  in  this — no  malice.  'Tis  but  the 
callousness  that,  as  we  have  asserted,  is  ever  produced  in  the 
human  heart  by  familiarity  with  strife  and  bloodshed,  or  with 
disease  and  death. 

A  week  or  two  after  the  conversation  recorded  in  a  pre 
ceding  chapter,  that  had  taken  place  between  the  directing 
physician  of  the  hospital  and  the  captains  of  the  Buzzard  and 

the  G ,  these  three  gentlemen  were  seated  at  dinner  at  the 

officers'  mess-room  table  in  the  Sierra  Leone  barracks.  Both 
the  sailors  were  to  take  their  departure  on  the  following  day, 


270  THE    CABIN    BOY'S    STORY. 

and  they  had  been  invited  to  a  farewell  dinner  with  the  officers 
of  the  garrison. 

"  By-the-by,  Peterson,"  said    Captain   James,  of  the  Buz 
zard,  "  you  were  relating  to  me  and  my  friend,  Captain  P , 

a  rather  romantic  story,  in  connection  with  the  two  negro  ba 
bies  we  went  to  see  in  the  nurse's  ward  at  the  hospital.  Was 
it  merely  a  creation  of  your  own  imagination,  or  was  the  scene 
you  anticipated  realized  ?" 

"  Realized  to  the  letter,  my  dear  fellow,"  replied  the  doctor. 
"  As  I  told  you,  I  sent  for  the  woman,  and  she  proved  to  be 
the  mother  of  the  two  children.  It  does  a  man  good,  occa 
sionally,  to  witness  a  scene  such  as  that  which  occurred  at  the 
hospital  on  the  day  the  woman  was  brought  in.  She  did  not 
know  why  she  was  brought  back,  and  was  a  little  frightened, 
poor  thing;  but  I  had  her  led  into  the  ward  where  the  children 
were  sleeping.  I  never  saw  such  little  devils  as  they  are  for 
sleeping  in  my  life — no  wonder  they  get  so  fat.  However, 
when  she  came  in,  led  by  one  of  the  matrons,  looking  about  her 
with  a  wild  stare,  as  if  she  was  watching  an  opportunity  to  cut 
and  run  from  the  custody  of  the  nurse,  I  pinched  one  of  the  young- 
ones  in  the  ear,  and  of  course  the  little  d — 1  set  up  a  squall. 
That  was  what  I  wanted.  I  told  you,  you  recollect,  that  it  was 
said  the  mother  of  the  children  had  recognized  the  wail  of  her 
infants  while  they  were  being  conveyed  on  board  the  slaver, 
whence  you  took  them — and  I  had  a  mind  to  see  whether  the 
cry  of  these  infants  would  have  the  same  effect  with  this  Yuwga, 
Ja.gos  woman.  By  George !  sir,  you  should  have  seen  her 
when  she  heard  the  squall.  She  stood  still  as  a  statue — her 
head  inclining  a  little  to  one  side,  and  the  forefinger  of  her 
right  hand  raised  in  an  attitude  of  earnest  attention.  I  pinched 
the  ear  of  the  other  infant,  and  they  set  up  a  most  unmelodious 
duet.  But  the  negro  wench  heard  whence  the  sound  pro 
ceeded.  In  a  moment  she  was  by  the  side  of  the  crib,  and  in 
another  moment  the  two  children  were  in  her  arms,  squealing 
like  young  porkers,  though  their  cries  were  stifled  by  the 
smothering  caresses  of  the  mother,  who  was  perfectly  frantic 
with  joy.  She  skipped  and  danced  about  the  room,  still  hold 
ing  the  children  in  her  arms,  tightly  clasped  to  her  bosom,  until 
I  thought  she  would  go  crazy.  Suddenly  she  sprang  to  the 
crib,  laid  the  children  down,  and  then  rushing  to  me,  flung  her 
self  at  my  feet,  and  clinging  to  my  legs,  showed  the  most  une 
quivocal  and  affecting  signs  of  gratitude.  Then  she  sprang  up, 


THE    CABIN     BOY S    STORY. 


271 


and  I  verily  believe  was  about  to  caress  me  after  the  same 
fashion  as  she  had  caressed  the  children.  But  I  bolted.  I  by 
no  means  wished  to  experience  a  public  embrace  from  a  ne- 
gress,  though  she  is  deuced  good  looking  ;  besides,  I  was  a 
little  'affected  myself.  I  will  own  up  to  it.  But,  Captain  James ; 
I  had  almost  forgotten  to  say  that  I  disclaimed  the  pleasure 
of  having  been  the  occasion  of  the  restoration  of  her  children, 
and  withnsome  difficulty  made  her  understand  that  a  stranger 
(meaning  you)  was  the  person  to  whom  her  gratitude  was  due, 
and  promised  to  introduce  her  to  you.  It  is  well  thought  of, 
Sambo,"  turning  to  a  negro  attendant,  "  tell  Juba  that  I  want 
her.  I  have  called  her  Juba,  Captain,"  again  addressing  the 
*;ca  officer,  "  and  intended  to  keep  her  in  my  family  for  the  - 
present,  But  what  ails  you  ?" 

Captain  James  had  turned  pale  and  risen  from  his  chair. 
"I  feel  strangely  unwell,"  he  said;  "a  sensation  of  sickness 
lias  come  over  me,  all  in  a  moment,  such  as  I  never  experienced 
before."  He  did  not  trust  himself  to  say  more,  but  hastily 
quitted  the  room — the  party  assembled  looked  gravely  and 
knowingly  around  the  table  at  each  other. 

"  A.  decided  case  of  Fellow  Jack,"  said  a  young  ensign, 
at  the  lower  end  of  the  table.  "  Captain  James  is  booked, 
and  there's  a  chance  for  young  Stringer,  his  first  lieutenant, 
to  get  an  acting  appointment  to  carry  the  ship  home.  Stringer's 
in  luck.  He  was  only  telling  me  yesterday  that  he  hoped 
to  obtain  a  commander's  commission  when  he  got  home.  I 
fancy  he'll  earn  the  silver  anchor  to  his  epaulettes  sooner 
than  he  anticipated." 

This  thoughtless,  unfeeling  speech  was  little  heeded  by  the 
rest  of  the  party.  Doctor  Peterson  and  Captain  P fol 
lowed  the  captain  of  the  Buzzard  out  of  the  mess-room,  and 
in  a  few  minutes  the  joke  and  the  jest,  and  the  wine  bottle, 
passed  around  amongst  the  other  guests  as  if  nothing  of  so 
serious  a  character  had  occurred  to  mar  their  festivity. 

Ere  two  hours  had  elapsed,  Captain  James  lay  in  a  cot  in 
one  of  the  wards  of  the  hospital,  delirious  with  fever.  His 
disease  was  the  most  virulent  description  of  the  fatal  yellow 
fever — and  Doctor  Peterson  had  given  up  all  hope  of  his  ulti 
mate  recovery  ;  for  in  this  climate  the  disease  speeds  its  course 
witli  a  rapidity  elsewhere  unknown,  and  a  few  hours'  space  often 
sees  the  victim — in  the  apparent  possession  of  perfect  health — a 
fevered  maniac  and  a  cold  and  repulsive  corpse.  A  few  hours 
more,  and  he  is  consigned  to  the  grave. 


272  THE  CABIN  BOY'S  STORY. 

But  Juba — as  Dr.  Peterson  had  termed  her — had  hastily  and 
gladly  responded  to  the  summons  that  called  her  to  see  the 
rescuer  of  her  offspring.  She  came,  to  find  him  gone,  from  the 
festive  board  to  the  sick  couch — a  victim  to  the  dreadful  and 
fatal  disease  of  the  climate.  She  asked  to  see  him,  but  was 
denied.  Doctor  Peterson  would  admit  no  one  but  the  nurses 
to  the  sick  chamber.  The  Yunga  Jagos  woman  was  not  to  be 
discouraged,  not  to  be  repulsed.  She  asked  to  see  the  doctor, 
and,  as  well  as  she  was  able,  in  her  imperfect  English,  she 
conjured  him  to  admit  her  to  the  bedside  of  the  fever-stricken 
victim.  She  could  save  him,  she  said;  and  so  urgent  was  her 
appeal,  so  apparently  confident  her  assertion,  that  the  physi 
cian  at  length  yielded  to  her  importunities.  He  promised  her 
that  she  should  be  admitted,  though  he  had  little  or  no  faith  in 
the  expressed  confidence  of  her  curative  powers. 

To  his  astonishment,  as  soon  as  she  had  obtained  the  required 
permission,  she  darted  out  from  the  door,  and  sped  rapidly  away 
to  a  dense  copse,  which  lay  at  about  a  quarter  of  a  mile  dis 
tant  from  the  hospital,  on  the  inland  declivity  of  the  hill  on 
which  the  structure  was  located.  She  was  soon  back  again, 
bearing  a  handful  of  herbs,  of  a  nature  unknown  to  the  doc 
tor,  and  the  virtues  of  which  had  never  been  mentioned  in  the 
pharmacopeia.  To  his  inquiry  as  to  what  she  was  going  to 
do  with  these,  she  simply  replied,  "  You  shall  see."  She  burned 
them  in  a  tin  vessel  over  the  fire — the  herbs  emitting  a  singu 
lar  aromatic  and  almost  stifling  perfume,  notwithstanding  the 
lid  of  the  vessel  was  kept  tightly  closed  ;  and,  having  thus  pre 
pared  herself,  she  entered  the  room  in  which  lay  the  victim  of 
the  terrible  disease.  She  requested  to  be  alone  with  her 
patient  for  one  hour.  The  doctor,  as  we  have  observed,  had 
given  up  all  hope  of  Captain  James's  recovery,  but  he  had 
known  strange  instances  of  the  skill  of  the  natives  in '  curing 
diseases  incidental  to  the  climate,  which  had  baffled  all  the 
skill  of  regularly  trained  physicians.  The  symptoms  could  be 
no  worse — and  the  request  of  the  Yunga  Jagos  woman  was 
granted.  For  one  hour  she  was  closeted  with  her  patient,  and 
Doctor  Peterson,  whose  curiosity  had  led  him  to  linger  at  the 
door  and  to  endeavor  to  listen  to  what  was  going  on  within, 
heard  strange  sounds  issuing  from  the  room,  and  peeping 
through  the  key-hole,  he  saw  the  negress  engaged  in  incanta 
tions  and  mummeries  similar  to  those  employed  by  the  native 
conjurers,  when  endeavoring  to  exorcise  disease.  He  turned 
away  with  a  sensation  of  sickness  and  loathing  ; — but,  at  the 


THE  CABIN  BOY'S  STORY.  273 

expiration  of  the  hour,  the  negress  re-appeared.  Doctor  Peter 
son  was  about  to  enter  the  room.  "  Not  yet  ;  not  yet,"  signi 
fied  the  negress,  placing  her  fingers  to  her  lips,  "  He  sleeps, 
and  he  must  not  be  awakened.  While  he  sleeps  I  must  wait  by 
his  couch."  She  returned  with  her  babes  in  her  arms,  and 
another  hour  elapsed.  The  doctor  was  growing  impatient  ; 
but  just  as  he  was  on  the  point  of  entering  the  room — won 
dering  at  his  own  folly  in  having  thus  allowed  himself  to  con 
nive  in  such  mummery — the  negress  again  appeared,  joy 
depicted  upon  her  countenance,  and  beckoned  him  to  follow 
her.  He  entered  the  room,  and  to  his  utter  amazement  beheld 
his  patient,  him  whom  he  had  lately  given  over  as  beyond  the 
possibility  of  human  aid — sitting  up  in  the  bed,  supported  by 
the  pillows — for  the  weakening  nature  of  the  disorder,  even  in 
the  short  time  that  had  elapsed  since  the  attack  had  commenced, 
had  prostrated  h'is  strength,  and,  probably,  the  active  remedies, 
whatever  they  were,  had  still  added  to  his  debility  :  but,  he 
was  entirely  free  from  fever,  and  was  looking  in  mingled  doubt 
and  wonder  at  the  woman  who  was  standing  by  the  side  of  the 
cot,  jabbering  away  in  her  native  dialect,  still  holding  the 
infants  in  her  arms,  and  evidently  half  wild  with  delight  at  the 
thought  of  having  saved  the  life  of  the  rescuer  of  her  babes. 

In  the  course  of  a  day  or  two  the  captain  had  entirely 
recovered,  and  was  enabled  to  rejoin  his  ship.  Shortly  after 
wards  he  sailed  for  England — and  thus,  though  it  was  a  mere 
act  of  duty  and  common  humanity  on  the  part  of  the  captain — 
partly  the  act  of  chance  good  fortune,  in  consequence  of  his 
having  so  opportunely  fallen  in  with  the  slaver,  was  this  act 
of  humanity  rewarded  by  the  grateful  mother's  preservation  of 
his  life  when  the  skill  of  the  leech  was  utterly  at  fault. 

The  young  ensign  was  mistaken,  and  Lieutenant  Stringer 
had  yet  to  wait  ere  he  could  mount  the  coveted  silver  anchors 
of  the  commander's  rank  on  his  plain  gold  epaulettes. 

Doctor  Peterson  vainly  sought  to  learn  from  Juba  the  means 
by  which  she  had  effected  so  magical  a  cure.  The  language 
of  the  negress  was  difficult  to  be  understood,  but  she  willingly 
showed  him  the  herbs  she  had  employed  in  her  mysterious 
incantations  ;  they  were  simple  creeping  parasites,  common 
enough  in  the  woods,  and  although  exceedingly  aromatic,  appa 
rently  possessed  of  no  medical  virtues.  Nor  did  the  grateful 
negress  pretend  they  were  ;  she  did  not  assert  that  they  could 
be  rendered  available,  save  in  peculiar  cases.  It  was,  she  said, 
a  mark  of  favor  from  the  great  Obeah,  who  had,  in  this 

12* 


274  THE    CABIN    EOY'd    STOIIY. 

instance,  rendered  their  virtues  serviceable,  in  behalf  of  him 
who  had  restored  her  children  to  the  arms  and  the  heart  of  a 
wretched  and  despairing  mother.*  Juba  did  not  wish  to  return 
to  her  tribe.  She  had,  as  we  have  before  recorded,  been  sold 
by  her  husband/  who  had  become  satiated  with  her  charms, 
and  had  taken  to  himself  another  wife  in  her  place.  She  feared 
that  if  she  returned,  she  would  again  be  sold,  perhaps  into 
hopeless  slavery.  She  accepted  the  offer  of  Captain  James,  to 
take  her  and  her  children  to  England  with  him,  and  was  sub- 
quently  installed  as  a  favored  domestic  in  his  family.  Doctor 
Peterson  was  unwilling  to  part  with  her,  but  he  considered  that 
Captain  James  had  a  greater  and  a  prior  claim  to  her  than  he, 
and  he  agreed  to  the  proposition  of  the  former. 

The  Buzzard  sailed  for  England,  and  on  the  same  day  Capt. 

P ,  who  had  delayed  the  departure  of  the  G purposely 

during  the  illness  of  his  brother  sailor,  also  sailed  for  the  United 
States,  greatly  to  the  delight  of  young  Miller,  who  was  anxious 
again  to  see  his  mother,  and  perhaps  a  little  impatient  to  show 
off  amongst  his  former  companions,  whose  destiny  had  not  led 
them,  so  early  in  life,  into  such  scenes  of  change  and  excite 
ment  as  he  had  taken  part  in  ;  besides,  the  young  midshipman 
was  still  in  a  state  of  considerable  bewilderment,  with  regard 
to  the  mysterious  connection  between  his  mother's  ring  and  the 
disappearance  of  the  Recluse  of  Annabon. 


CHAPTER    XXYII. 

Some  further  Mystery,  leading   to  an  Unexpected  Denoument,  arising 
out  of  the  Rings. 

"  WHAT  can  the  little  gipsy  mean  ?  It  is  a  strange  story 
she  tells.  Some  mad  woman,  I  suppose,  who  has  got  a  fancy 
into  her  coddled  brain  ;  which  she  cannot  get  rid  of.  I  will 
read  the  paragraph  again: 

*  A  literal  fact,  excepting  the  alteration  of  names  and  dates.  The  writer,  when  on 
the  African  coast,  was  acquainted  with  an  officer  who  was  almost  miraculously  restored 
to  health  after  having  been  given  over  by  the  physicians,  by  a  negress  whose  children 
he  had,  under  almost  similar  circumstances,  restored  to  her.  Whether  the  salutary 
efforts  of  the  incantations  of  the  negress  were  due  to  the  Obeah,  the  aromatic  per 
fume  of  the  herbs  she  used  in  her  medicines,  the  force  of  imagination,  or  to  the  sud 
den  reaction  which  such  a  singular  scene  in  his  sick  chamber  had  caused  to  take 
place  in  his  system,  he  leaves  to  the  judgment  of  his  readers. 


THE  CABIN  BOY'S  STORY.  275 

u  <  *     *     *     j^  strange  adventure  has  lately  befallen  me, 
dear  William.     You  recollect  sending  me  that  beautiful  ring, 
shortly  after  you  removed  to  Boston.     Why  did  you  think  it 
necessary  to  go  there,  William  ?  Could  you  not  have  completed 
your  legal  studies  quite  as  well  in  Augusta  ?     But  I  suppose 
you  know  best.     Perhaps  it  is  better  as  it  is  ;  but  I  am  for-  ^ 
getting  my  story.     I  have  always  worn  that  ring  since — and 
mamma  has  often  joked  me  about  it ;  and  a  good  many  of  my 
companions  have  asked  me  what  I  set  so  much  store  upon  it 
for.     Well,  on  Monday  last  as  I  was  going  across  the  meadow 
that  lies  at  the  back  of  our  house — that  meadow  where  we  used 
to  wander  of  an  evening,  after  you  came  home  from  the  office, 
during  the  happy  period  when  I  saw  you  every  day — I  met  a 
lady,  at  least  so  far  as  appearances  go;  that  is  to  say,  she  was 
respectably   attired  in  black   silk,   and   altogether    presented 
a  very  decent  appearance.     I  had  pulled  off  my  glove  to  gathe* 
a  posy  of  wild  flowers,  arid  as  this  lady  was  passing  me  she 
stopped  suddenly,  and  started,  and  looked  so  strange  and  fright 
ened  that  I  grew  rather  alarmed.     I  was  about  to  ask  her  if 
she  was  unwell,  when  she  approached  me,  and  seizing  my  hand, 
asked  me  whence  I  obtained  the  ring  I  wore.     I  scarcely  knew 
what  to  say;  but  I  believe  I  told  her  it  was  a  gift  from  a  dear 
friend,  and  was  about  to  pass  on,  when  she  grasped  my  right 
arm  and  commenced    some    incoherent   harangue    about   her 
daughter;  saying  that  the  ring  belonged  to  her,  and  that  I 
must  have  stolen  it  from  her,  and  she  asked  me  if  it  had  not 
the  letter  J  engraved  on  the  inside  ?     I  said  yes,  and  that  the 
initial  stood  for  my  own  name — Jessica.      However,  she  grew 
almost  violent  in  her  demeanor,  and  I  don't  know  what  I  should 
have  done  had  not  papa  come  up  on  his  way  from  the  office. 
The    lady   commenced    assailing   him  ;    but   he   managed  to 
calm  her,  and  bidding  me  hasten  home  to  mamma,  he  and  this 
strange  woman  walked  together  to  our  house,     They  were  all 
the  time  engaged  in  earnest  conversation  t  and  papa,  when  he 
got  home,  took  her  up  stairs  into  his  study,  where  they  were 
closeted  for  a  long  time.    At  last  she  went  away,  and  then  papa 
sent  for  me,  and  asked  me  if  you  had  ever  told  me  how  the  ring 
came  into  your  possession.     I  said  you  had  informed  me  that 
you  purchased  it  in  Boston;  and  that  was  all  I  knew  about  it. 
He  said  no  more  ;  but  every  day  since  then,  he  and  this  lady, 
whose  name  I  have  never  heard,  for  he  never  says  anything  to 
mamma  or  me  about  her,  have  been  closeted  together;  and  when 
ever  I  have  chanced  to  meet  her,  she  has  given  me  a  most  scru- 


276  THE  CABIN  BOY'S  STORY. 

tinizing  glance,  arid  -looked  at  the  ring  as  though  she  would  like 
to  tear  it  from  my  fingers.  Now,  dear  William,  if  there  be 
any  mystery  attached  to  this  ring,  do  tell  me  about  it,  for  I  am 
dying  with  anxiety  to  know  the  cause  of  all  these  singular  pro 
ceedings.  *  *  *  *  j  am  going  to  the  post-office  to  post 
this  letter  to-night,  and  papa  has  just  placed  a  letter  for  you  and 
one  for  Mr.  Ogilvie  into  my  hands,  both  of  which  letters  he 
wishes  me  to  post  with  mine.  Perhaps  papa's  letter  to  you 
may  explain.  If  it  does,  let  me  know  when  you  write  again. 
Yours  ever  faithfully  and  affectionately, 

JESSICA  DEANE.' 

"  I  can't  make  head  or  tail  out  of  that  epistle,"  exclaimed 
the  young  man,  whom  the  reader  will  already  have  recognized 
as  William  Martin.  "  But,  I  declare,  in  my  anxiety  to  read 
tfessie's  letter,  I  have  forgotten  Mr.  Deane's,"  and  he  took  up 
the  letter  from  his  former  patron  in  Augusta,  and  breaking  the 
seal,  read  as  follows  : 

"  AUGUSTA,  ME., 18 — . 

"DEAR  WILLIAM — 

I  have  herewith  sent  a  letter  to  Mr.  Ogilvie,  from  whom  I 
am  happy  to  hear  of  your  continued  good  behavior  and  rapid 
progress  in  your  studies.  I  hope  to  live  to  see  you  an  orna 
ment  to  the  bar,  my  dear  boy,  and  I  need  not  add  that  your 
relations  with  regard  to  my  darling  Jessie,  cause  me  to  feel  still 
greater  interest  in  your  progress,  and  greater  pleasure  in  your 
good  conduct  than  I,  perhaps,  might  otherwise  do.  The  letter 
to  Mr.  Ogilvie  is  in  allusion  to  you  and  your  family,  especially 
your  sister  Sarah.  Mr.  0.  will  in  all  probability  shortly  en 
lighten  you  as  to  its  contents.  By-the-by,  William,  Jessie 
wears  a  ring  that  you  gave  her  some  time  ago.  You  would 
confer  a  great  favor  upon  me  if  you  will  inform  me  minutely, 
how  it  came  into  your  possession.  I  have  no  doubt  you  ob 
tained  it  honorably;  but  there  is  a  mystery  of  a  singular  na 
ture  connected  with  it,  which  interests  me  exceedingly.  My 
wife  desires  to  be  kindly  remembered  to  you,  and  expressed  a 
hope  that  you  will  visit  Augusta,  during  the  course  of  the  sum 
mer. 

Your  friend  and  well  wisher. 

ANDREW  DEAXE. 

"  P.  S.  I  have  said  nothing  respecting  Jessie  since  I  find 
she  is  writing  to  you  herself.  A.  D." 


TH£  CABIN   BOY'S  STORY.  277 

"  More  mystery!"  exclaimed  the  young  man,  after  having  fin 
ished  the  perusal  of  Mr.  Deane's  letter.  "  What  a  confounded 
fuss  about  that  foolish  ring.  Where  did  I  get  it  from  ?  Why  I 
bought  it  of  a  jeweller,  to  be  sure,  as  most  people  do  when  they 
want  to  send  such  trinkets  to  their  sweethearts.  I  wish  it  had 
been  at  the  bottom  of  Boston  Bay,  though,  before  there  had 
been  this  fuss  made  about  it,  and  that  I  had  purchased  some 
thing  else  for  Jessie " 

"  Mr.  Ogilvie  wishes  to  see  you  in  the  library,  sir,"  said  a 
servant,  opening  the  door  of  William  Martin's  room,  and  inter 
rupting  his  soliloquy. 

"  Now  I  hope  I  shall  have  the  mystery  explained,"  said  the 
young  man  to  himself  as  he  descended  to  the  library. 

"Take  a. seat,  William,"  said  Mr.  Ogilvie,  as  the  young 
man  entered.  "  I  wish  to  have  a  little  conversation  with 
you  with  regard  to  a  communication  I  have  just  received 
from  your  former  friend,  Mr.  Deane,  of  Augusta.  I  have 
never  heard  anything  respecting  your  family  or  relatives;  but 
if  you  have  no  objection,  it  is  necessary  that  I  should  now 
receive  some  information  of  that  kind.  Who  was  your  father. 
William  ?" 

"  An  officer  in  the  United  States  army,  sir,"  said  the 
young  man,  proudly. 

"  Ah,  I  recollect;  Mr.  Deane  said  something  of  that  kind 
when  you  came  here  first  ;  but  you  had  a  grandfather,  I 
presume,"  added  Mr.  Ogilvie,  smilingly.  "Who  and  what 
was  he  ?" 

"  He  was  an  Englishman,  and  in  his  youth  he  held  a  com 
mission  in  the  British  army,  I  believe  ;  but  he  came  while 
still  young  to  the  United  States,  became  a  citizen,  and  pur 
chased  a  farm  near  Camden  (Me.),  on  which  my  father  re 
sided  after  he  had  quitted  the  service;  there  I  was  born,  and 
there  my  mother  still  resides." 

"  Humph!  have  you  ever  heard  your  mother  mention  any 
thing  about  having  wealthy  relatives  in  England  ?" 

"  I  have  heard  her  say  something  to  that  purport,  but  I 
have  paid  little  attention  to  it." 

"  Your  mother  is  an  Englishwoman,  I  believe  ?" 

"  Yes,  sir;  but  she  came  to  America  with  her  parents  when 
a  child." 

"  What  was  her  name  previously  to  her  marriage — that  is, 
what  is  the  surname  of  her  family?" 

"  Donaldson,  sir." 


278          THE  CABIN  BOY'S  STORY. 

Mr.  Ogilvie  looked  at  a  letter  he  held  in  his  hand.     "  You 
have  a  sister  ?"  he  continued. 

"  Yes,  sir.'7 
•     "  And  her  name  ?" 

"  Is  Sarah  Donaldson  Martin.'1 

"So  far  so  good.  Mr.  Deaue  writes  me  to  say  that  he 
has  lately  made  the  acquaintance  of  a  lady  in  Augusta,  who 
has  for  some  time  past  resided  in  a  state  of  great  seclusion  in 
that  city,  although  she  is  reputed  to  be  possessed  of  consid 
erable  property.  Her  name  is  Sarah  Donaldson  ;  she  is  a 
maiden  lady,  considerably  advanced  in  years.  This  lady  came, 
it  appears,  to  the  United  States  on  a  tour  of  pleasure,  being 
partially  actuated  to  do  so,  in  the  hope  of  discovering  a  niece, 
named  after  herself,  who  had,  she  learnt,  married  an  officer 
of  the  United  States  Army,  but  of  whose  fortunes  she  had 
heard  but  little,  as  she  had  come  to  this  country  when  an  in 
fant,  with  her  parents,  both  of  whom  died  while  she  was  yet 
a  mere  girl.  Mrs.  Donaldson,  notwithstanding  she  is  a  maiden 
lady,  assumes  the  title  of  matronhood,  and  she  was  accom 
panied  hither  by  a  younger  brother,  a  widower,  and  his  daugh 
ter,  whom  she  had  brought  up  from  a  child,  and  to  whom  she 
was  devotedly  attached.  Shortly  after  their  arrival  in  Boston, 
they  called  at  a  jeweller's  store  in  that  city,  and  ordered  a 
ring  to  be  manufactured  for  the  young  lady  who  accompanied 
them.  It  appears  that  a  ring  of  singular  construction,  belong 
ing  to  the  young  lady's  mother,  whose  name  was  Jemima,  had 
been  accidentally  lost  overboard  on  the  passage  from  England. 
Their  object  was  to  obtain  one  of  exactly  similar  pattern  for 
the  young  lady  to  wear.  It  was  purchased,  and  shortly  after 
wards  the  party  left  Boston  for  New  York.  Mrs.  Donaldson, 
being  in  rather  feeble  health,  remained  in  the  city,  while  her 
brother  and  his  child  proceeded  on  a  tour  up  the  Hudson,  with 
the  intention  of  visiting  the  northern  and  western  part  of  the 
State.  They  were  never  again  heard  of;  for,  not  returning  at 
the  time  they  were  expected,  the  anxiety  suffered  by  Mrs 
Donaldson  slightly  affected  her  intellect,  and  probably  the  in 
quiries  respecting  them,  that  would  otherwise  have  been  insti 
tuted,  were  not  made.  Mrs.  Donaldson,  however,  on  her 
partial  recovery — though  I  believe  to  this  day  she  is  not 
exactly  compos  mentis,  if  my  friend  Deane  judges  correctly — re 
moved  to  Augusta,  having  heard  that  her  niece  resided  some 
where  in  the  State  of  Maine,  with  the  intention,  no  doubt,  of 
still  further  prosecuting  her  inquiries  respecting  her;  but  with 


THE  CABIN  BOY'S  STORY.  279 

an  inconsistency  frequently  found  in  people  in  her  unhappy 
condition,  when  she  reached  Augusta  her  energies  failed  her, 
and  she  has  ever  since  lived  the  life  of  a  recluse  in  that  city. 
A  short  time  since  she,  by  chance,  met  with  Mr.  Deane's 
daughter,  and  her  attention  was  accidentally  drawn  to  a  ring 
which  the  young  lady  wore  upon  her  finger,  which  she  asserted, 
and  still  asserts,  is  the  identical  ring  that  she  had  made  in 
Boston.  She  has  since  that  period  had  several  interviews  with 
Mr.  Deane,  who  has  obtained  this  information  from  her,  and 
who  was  in  the  first  instance  struck  with  the  name  of  Donald 
son,  when  the  lady  observed  that  she  had  a  niece  of  that  name 
residing  in  Maine,  if  she  were,  indeed,  still  living,  who  had 
married  an  American  officer  of  the  name  of  Martin.  Mr'. 
Deane,  it  appears,  had  heard  or  fancied  he  had  heard  that 
Donaldson  was  your  mother's  maiden  name.  Mrs.  Donaldson, 
whose  health  is  rapidly  declining,  and  who  cannot  last  long, 
has  expressed  her  intention  of  leaving  her  property  to  her 
grand  niece,  subject  to  the  mother's  control,  until  the  girl  be 
of  sufficient  age  to  take  care  of  it  herself — provided  the  child 
has  been  christened  by  the  family  name  of  Donaldson.  It 
seems  she  heard  by  some  means  or  other  that  such  was  the 
case  before  she  left  England  ;  though,  Mr.  Deane  says,  she 
talks  so  incoherently  in  this  matter  that  it  is  difficult  to  make 
out  her  meaning.  Failing  the  discovery  of  her  niece,  the  pro 
perty  will  be  left  to  the  heirs  of  a  family  named  Seymour,  with 
which  the  Donaldsons  seern  to  have  been  related  or  in  some 
way  connected.  This  is  all  that  Deane  explains  at  present  ; 
but  you  see,  now,  William,  the  necessity  of  your  giving  such 
information  as  you  are  able  with  regard  to  the  ring,  which  has 
led  to  this  eclair cissement." 

"  Upon  my  word,  sir,"  said  the  young  man,  "  I  know  nothing 

more  of  the  ring  than  this:  I  went  into  the  store  of  Mr. , 

in  this  city,  some  time  since,  and  purchased  a  singular  looking, 
antique  ring,  inside  of  which  I  had  the  letter  J  engraved,  and 
then  I  sent  the  ring  as  a  present  to  Miss  Jessica  Deane." 

"  In  that  case  I  will  call  upon  the  jeweller,"  replied  Mr. 
Ogilvie.  "  Perhaps  he  may  afford  us  some  further  information 
with  regard  to  this  matter.  It  is  worth  some  little  investiga 
tion,  for  there  is  a  great  probability  that  in  the  event  of  mat 
ters  being  properly  explained,  your  family  will  benefit  from  the 
wealth  of  this  old  lady.  Let  me  see ;  how  many  brothers  have 
you  ?" 

"  One  only — Frank,  who  is  now  at  sea.     But  it  is  strange 


280  THE  CABIN  BOY's  STORY. 

that  we  have  not  heard  from  him  since  he  sailed  on  board  a 
vessel  belonging  to  Mr.  Mordant  bound  to  the  coast  of  Africa, 
under  the  command  of  Captain  Seymour,  although  the  vessel 
has  since  returned  from  that  voyage  and  sailed  again.  Mother 
is  getting  very  anxious  regarding  him." 

Mr.  Ogilvie  looked  at  the  letter  sent  by  Mr.  Deane.  "  Sey 
mour,"  he  said,  "  that  is  the  name  mentioned  as  the  probable 
residuary  legatee  of  Mrs.  Donaldson.  Do  you  know,  or  have 
you  ever  heard  of  any  family  in  England  of  that  name,  sup 
posed  to  be  in  any  way  related  to  or  connected  with  your  mo 
ther's  friends  ?" 

"  No,  sir,  not  that  I  am  aware  of." 

"  Well,  1  presume  that  this  is  all  the  information  I  can 

glean  at  present.  I  will  see  Mr. ,  the  jeweller  to-day,  and 

this  evening  I  will  write  to  Mr.  Deane." 

In  the  course  of  the  day,  true  to  his  promise,  Mr.  Ogilvie 
called  at  the  store  of  the  jeweller,  and  made  inquiries  respect 
ing  the  mysterious  ring.  "  Do  you  recollect,"  inquired  he,  "  to 
whom  you  sold  a  ring  of  the  description  I  speak  of?" 

"I  do,"  said  the  jeweller,  "for  to  tell  the  truth,  Mr.  Ogilvie, 
there  are  some  strange  circumstances  connected  with  the  sale." 
The  merchant  reached  down  his  ledger  and  referred  to  the  sup 
posed  date  of  the  sale  of  the  first  ring.  "  Ah,"  continued  he,  "  I 
was  right ;  it  is  nearly  three  years  ago  since  a  gentleman,  of  per 
haps  about  forty  years  of  age,  accompanied  by  a  lady  greatly 
his  senior,  yet  sufficiently  resembling  him  to  warrant  the  sup 
position  that  she  was  an  elder  sister,  came  to  my  store  and 
ordered  a  ring  of  peculiar  workmanship  to  be  manufactured. 
They  were  strangers,  and  I  should  judge  English  people.  The 
ring  was  made  and  delivered;  but  the  beauty  and  singularity 
of  its  setting  led  me,  merely  out  of  a  whim,  to  manufacture 
another  exactly  like  it  for  myself.  However,  I  did  not  wear 
it,  and  after  retaining  it  for  some  time  I  exposed  it  for  sale. 
Shortly  afterwards  it  was  purchased  by  a  gentleman,  who, 
singularly  enough,  ordered  the  letter  J  to  be  engraved  inside, 
which  had  been  ordered  to  be  engraved  on  the  first  ring.  I 
should  not,  however,  have  thought  much  of  this,  had  not  I  manu 
factured  two  others,  both  of  which  were  sold,  and  the  pur 
chasers  of  both  ordered  the  same  letter  to  be  engraved.  I 
was  so  struck  with  these  singular  coincidences,  that  I  men 
tioned  the  subject  to  my  partner.  However,  I  made  no  more 
of  the  rings,  and  I  had  almost  forgotten  the  matter  until  you 
mentioned  it  to-day.  Now,  may  I  ask,  sir,  what  is  the  reason 


THE    CABIN    BOi''s    STORY.  281 

of  these  inquiries  being  made.  You  will  excuse  me;  but  my 
curiosity  is  strongly  excited,  and  I  think  you  will  acknowledge 
naturally  enough." 

"  Really  Mr. ,  at  present  I  am  unable  to  inform  you. 

I  have  reason  to  believe,  however,  that  some  singular  denouu 
ments  will  be  made  through  these  rings,  and  I  promise  you 
that  when  I  learn  the  secret  myself,  I  will  satisfy  your  curiosity. 
By  the  bye,  what  was  the  date  of  the  sale  of  the  first  of  these 
rings  ?" 

The  tradesman  again  referred  to  his  books.  "  On  the  24th 
of  August  18 — ,  I  sold  the  ring  to  the  lady  and  gentleman  I 
have  mentioned,"  said  he. 

"  The  24th  of  August  18 — ,"  said  Mr.  Ogilvie,  noting  the 
date  on  his  tablets — "  Good  morning,  Mr. ,"  and  so  say 
ing  he  left  the  store  of  the  jeweller. 

"  These  duplicated  sales  of  similar  rings  explain  William's 
account  of  the  manner  in  which  he  came  into  possession  of  the 
ring,"  he  soliloquised,  as  he  walked  homewards,  "  and  it  also 
explains  how  the  letter  J  should  have  been  engraved  upon  it; 
but  it  is,  indeed,  a  strange  series  of  coincidences — the  fact  of 
the  two  other  purchasers  ordering  the  same  letter  to  be  en 
graved  on  each  of  their  rings/' 

Mr.  Ogilvie  wrote  to  Mr.  Deane  that  same  evening,  explain 
ing  the  particulars  he  had  gathered,  and  mentioning,  in  par 
enthesis,  though  he  did  not  place  much  importance  to  the  mat 
ter,  since  there  might  be  numerous  families  of  the  same  name, 
that  a  brother  of  William  Martin  who  was  at  sea — had  sailed 
some  time  previous  on  a  voyage,  the  destination  of  the  vessel 
unknown,  under  the  command  of  Captain  Seymour,  the  vessel 
being  owned  by  a  New  York  merchant  of  the  name  of  Mor 
dant. 

A  few  weeks  subsequently  to  this  a  vessel  arrived  in  Boston 
from  the  coast  of  Africa,  and  on  board  of  her  was  Frank 

Martin — who  had  been  invalided  home  from  the  G -,  frigate. 

The  first  inquiries  of  the  young  sailor,  whose  health  had  been 
nearly  restored  during  the  voyage  home,  was  after  his  brother 
AVilliam,  who  he  knew  was  in  Boston;  and  in  the  course  of  a 
few  hours  after  his  arrival,  the  long-absent  sailor  surprised  his 
brother  by  appearing  before  him,  sunburnt  as  an  Indian,  in 
Mr.  Ogilvie's  office. 


282  THE  CABIN  BOY'S  STORY. 


CHAPTER  XXVIII. 

The  Birth  of  Zuleika's  Infant — Some  Account  of  the  Parentage  of 

Zuleika. 

"  From  that  mysterious  hour,  the  fate 
Of  this  new,  glorious  being  dwelt 
Upon  my  spirit — early — late — 
Whate'er  1  ?.id— whate'er  I  felt, 
The  thought  of  what  might  yet  befall 
That  matchless  creature,  mixed  with  all." 

IT  is  early  morn  in  Zuleika's  Isle.  The  bright  sun  has  but 
now  gilded  "the  mirror-like  bay  with  his  cheering  beams,  and 
the  birds,  aroused  from  their  light  slumbers,  by  the  genial 
warmth  an$  the  cheerful  light  shed  by  his  rays,  have  united 
their  matin  songs  in  tuneful  chorus  ;  the  many  and  bright- 
hued  convolvulus  has  opened  her  blossoms  and  flowers,  glitter 
ing  with  pearly  dew,  to  the  gladness  of  the  morning  ;  the 
boughs  and  leaves  of  the  rustling  trees,  gently  bending  and 
waving  to  the  pressure  of  the  soft  zephyrs,  fresh  from  the  sea, 
add  to  the  tuneful  harmony  of  nature — the  sweetest,  freshest, 
purest,  and  the  best  ;  the  bright  green  herbiage  of  the  newly 
mown  sward  glitters  in  the  morning  sunbeams,  as  though  some 
beneficent,  loving  fairy  hand  had  strewn  the  level  expanse 
with  diamonds  during  the  darkness  of  night  to  gratify  the 
eyes  of  mortals  when  they  awoke  from  their  slumbers  ;  the 
balm  of  a  thousand  odoriferous  flowers  blends  its  sweet  per 
fume  with  the  refreshing  air  of  the  newly-born  day,  and  the 
younglings  of  the  flocks  and  herds  skip  to  and  fro  in  the 
meadows,  in  all  the  lightsome  joyousness,  the  wild  exuberant 
delight  of  happiness  and  unconscious  innocence. 

In  the  distance,  embosomed  amidst  fragrant  shrubs  and 
bright  green  foliage,  stands  the  cottage  of  Zuleika.  But 
where  is  she  ?  The  young  Greek  girl  has  not  been,  as  is  her 
wont,  awakened  from  her  happy  dreams  by  the  light  and 
warmth  of  the  sun's  faint  morning  rays,  as  they  stream  through 
the  open  lattice  of  her  chamber.  She  is  slumbering  still 
now,  slumbering  peacefully  :  yet  conscious,  even  amidst  her 
slumbers,  of  a  mysterious  double  existence  ;  for,  pillowed  upon  her 
bosom  and  sleeping  quietly,  is  a  fair  infant,  who  has  but  dur- 
ino-  thje  night  awakened  into  birth  and  life,  and  who  now  for 


MARCA  AND  ZOE, 

"But  apart  from  the  joyous  groups,  down  by  the  margin  of  the  sea,  earnestly  engaged  in  con 
versation,  to  judge  from  the  action  it  calls  forth,  stand  two  females,  both  tall  in  stature— both  up 
right  as  the  cedar  of  their  native  islands.'1'1 

*******  *** 

"  The  reader  will  readily  recognzie  in  these  two  females — Marca,  the  dark  prophet  of  the  isles, 
and  Zoe — the  self-acknowledged  mother  of  Zuleika." 


THE    CABIN    BOY'S    STORY.  283 

the  first  time  feels  the  gentle  breeze,  tempered  by  the  warmth 
of  the  sun's  rays,  fan  her  smooth  and  delicate  cheek.  There  is 
a  feeble  wail,  and  the  young  mother,  sensitive  to  the  slightest 
sound  from  the  lips  of  her  newly-born  babe,  opens  her  heavy 
eyelids,  and  smiling  sweetly,  and  pressing  the  child  more  closely 
to  her  bosom,  murmurs,  "  I  wish  that  he  were  here,"  and  the 
mother  and  babe  slumber  again. 

There  are  sounds  of  merriment  and  rejoicing  in  Zuleika's 
Isle,  for  the  fair  and  gentle  mistress  of  its  self-appointed  lord 
has  already  won  the  love  of  the  simple  inhabitants,  and  it  is 
known  that  she  has  given  birth  to  a  female  child  ;  and  the 
men  forego,  for  this  day,  their  customary  employment.  The 
fishing-boats  lie  idle  upon  the  strand  to-day,  and  the  inhabitants 
assemble  together  in  groups  and  indulge  in  mysterious  whisper 
ings,  suggestive,  we  must  fain  believe,  of  pleasurable  ideas,  for 
their  kindly,  comely  countenances  beam  with  triumphant 
smiles  ;  and  amongst  the  groves,  and  within  the  coverts  of  the 
trees,  the  maidens  weave  chaplets  from  the  store  of  wild 
(lowers  gathered  by  the  happy  youths,  and  many  a  gentle,  per 
suasive  whisper  is  poured  into  the  ear  of  coy,  coquettish 
maidens,  by  ardent  swains,  calling  the  mantling  blush  to  the 
cheek  and  the  soft  reproof  to  the  lips  ;  but  the  accompanying, 
encouraging  smile  tells  plainly  that  the  too  bold  flattery  is  not 
ungraciously  received,  and  the  offence  may  be  repeated,  aye, 
again  and  again,  without  risk  of  giving  heinous  offence. 

And  now  each  maiden  has  woven  herself  a  garland,  and  a 
ring  is  formed  upon  the  soft,  smooth  lawn,  and  the  lute  and 
the  cymbal  fill  the  air  with  melody,  and  twinkling  feet  trip 
lightly  to  the  measure  upon  the  yielding  turf,  keeping  time  to 
the  primitive  music  ;  and  forms,  more  graceful  than  those  of 
the  gazelle,  wheel  rapidly  round  the  circle,  charming  and,  at 
the  same  time,  bewildering  the  eye  with  their  rapid  motions 
and  gracefully  intricate  evolutions  ;  and  staid  matrons,  seated 
on  the  grass,  gaze  on  the  festive  scene  with  delight,  as  they 
recall  to  memory  the  happy  hours  of  days  and  years  gone  by, 
when,  in  the  joyousness  of  their  own  girlhood,  they  danced  with 
their  lovers  to  the  same  tinkling  measure,  and  with  the  like 
feelings  of  innocent  light-heartedness.  It  is  a  day  of  jubilee 
in  Zuleika's  Isle — the  Greeks  keep  holiday. 

But,  far  apart  from  the  joyous  groups,  down  by  the  margin 
of  the  sea,  earnestly  engaged  in  conversation,  to  judge  from  the 
action  it  calls  forth,  stand  two  females,  both  tall  in  stature — 
both  upright  as  the  cedar  of  their  native  islands.  One  of 


284  THE    CABIN    BOY'S    STORY. 

them,  however,  though  still  apparently  hale  and  strong,  and 
possessed  of  the  fire  and  energy  of  youth,  betrays,  in  her  hag 
gard,  wrinkled  visage,  the  marks  of  extreme  age.  In  her  right 
hand  she  holds  a  sappling  of  some  six  feet  in  length,  not,  as  it 
seems,  for  the  purpose  of  support,  but  rather  to  serve  as  a 
wand,  by  the  aid  of  which  she  may  give  more  energy  and  effect 
to  her  remarks,  for  ever  and  anon  she  waves  it  in  the  air  and 
points  to  the  isles  whose  shadows  are  seen  in  the  distant  hori 
zon,  and  now  she  stamps  it  firmly  in  the  sand,  as  though  to 
mark  the  intensity  of  her  words. 

The  other,  although  long  past  the  bloom  of  youth,  or  even 
the  comeliness  of  early  matronhood,  still  bears  traces  of  having 
at  one  time  been  the  possessor  of  rare  though  savage  beauty; 
her  large  black  eyes,  shaded  by  long  silken  lashes,  glisten  like 
gems  of  sparkling  jet  beneath  her  dark,  heavy,  arched  eye 
brows — and  the  fresh  breezes  of  the  sea,  or,  perchance,  the 
interest  of  the  conversation  in  which  she  is  so  earnestly 
engaged,  have  called  a  ruddy  glow  to  her  sunburnt  cheeks. 

The  reader  will  readily  recognize  in  these  two  females — • 
Marca,  the  dark  prophet  of  the  Isles,  and  Zoe,  the  self- 
acknowledged  mother  of  Zuleika. 

Let  us  listen  to  the  concluding  remarks  of  their  conver 
sation. 

"  Then  Yicenzo's  hated  line  is  to  renew  its  strength  in  this 
young  scion  of  the  daughter  of  his  scattered  race,"  said  Zoe, 
her  eyes  glaring  with  wild  energy — almost  with  fury  as  she 
spoke. 

"  Fear  not  that/1  replied  Marca,  "  the  infant  is  a  girl,  and 
there  is  no  harm  to  dread  from  its  influence  ;  besides,  the 
secret  remains  locked  in  our  own  bosoms.  It  is  our  fault  if  we 
betray  it.  Were  the  babe  a  boy  it  might  be  otherwise  ;  I 
might  then  counsel  his  destruction  ;  but,  Zoe,  our  vengeance 
should  be  sated  now.  We  have  worked  it  well.  Let  the 
innocent  infant  live  ;  I  am  growing  old  ;  the  dark  shadows  of 
the  grave  are  already  visible  to  me  ;  I  would  fain  do  one  deed 
of  mercy  before  my  eyes  close  in  death." 

"  I  would  have  vengeance  to  the  last,"  answered  Zoe;  "but, 
be  it  as  you  say.  Let  this  minion  live,  at  least  for  the  pre 
sent;  perchance  the  Frank  who  bought  the  girl  of-me  for  800 
piastres;  ha!  ha!  it  was  a  shrewd  bargain — and  who  married 
her,  and  is  the  father  of  her  child,  may  remove  her  hence.  If 
so  it  is  well.  I  will  forego  my  sworn  vengeance  to  blight  and 
blast  the  sons  and  daughters  of  Vicenzo — even  to  the  latest 


THE    CABIN    BOY'S    STORY.  285 

generation.  If  she  remains  here  she  may  be  watched,  and  woe 
to  her  and  her's,  should  she  discover  the  secret  that  surrounds 
her  birth.  Mother,  you  have  lived  a  long  lifetime  of  vengeance. 
You  may  well  be  sated,  not  so  with  me.  I  have  been  foiled 
and  foiled  again;  but  each  time  my  thirst  for  revenge  has  only 
grown  stronger." 

"  I  have  promised  the  Frank  renegade,  that  no  harm  shall 
happen  to  his  dainty  bride  while  he  is  absent,"  replied  the  el 
der  woman  sententiously — "  the  word  of  Marca  must  not  be 
lightly  broken." 

"  It  is  enough,"  answered  Zoe,  apparently  acquiescing 
though  unwillingly  to  the  wishes  of  Marca. 

"  It  is  strange,"  she  continued,  "  that  until  of  late  we  have 
never  met  since  the  day  you  sold  me  to  the  hateful  embraces  of 
Yicenzo,"  and  as  she  uttered  the  last  words  her  eyes  seemed  to 
flash  with  keen  but  suppressed  hatred  towards  her  mother. 

"  I  fled  to  the  Negropont,  after  my  husband  was  betrayed 
by  the  Scio  chief cain,  who  claimed  you  as  his  bride;  but  you 
wrong  me,  Zoe — -I  never  sold  you  to  Yicenzo's  harem." 

"  It  matters  not,"  returned  Zoe. 

"  And  you  !"  asked  Marca.  "  It  is  long  since  we  have  spo 
ken  together  for  any  length  of  time.  We  are  alone  now  ;  the 
billows  of  the  ocean,  and  the  breezes  of  the  atmosphere  can 
alone  listen  to  our  voices.  What  led  you  to  hate  Yicenzo  with 
such  unrelenting,  bitter  hatred  ?  You  had  no  reason  to  hate 
him  as  I  had,  albeit  you  did  not  love  him." 

"  Listen  and  I  will  tell  you,"  returned  Zoe  : 

"  It  is  true  I  did  not  love  Yicenzo — but  I  was  mistress  of 
his  harem  and  Queen  of  his  isle  until  he,  growing  sated  with 
me,  took  another  bride — a  fair  Circassian,  whom  he  had  cap 
tured  from  the  harem  of  her  Turkish  lord  in  one  of  his  pre 
datory  excursions  on  the  coast  of  this  Bay  of  Salonica  that  lies 
spread  before  us.  From  that  hour  my  reign  was  over.  I  had 
borne  a  son  to  Yicenzo.  He  still  lives  to  aid  me  in  working 
out  my  full  measure  of  vengeance;  but,  let  that  pass.  My  son 
was  despised,  cast  off  by  his  father  when  his  fresh  young  Cir 
cassian  bride  was  taken  into  favor.  He  became  an  out-cast, 
and  his  mother  a  dependent  on  the  caprices  of  another.  I 
knew  not  till  then  that  I  cared  so  much  for  Yicenzo,  but  he 
had  treated  me  well,  and  I  had  almost  learn't  to  love 
him. 

"  For  four  long  years  I  brooded  over  my  sorrows,  until  dis 
content  grew  into  hatred,  and  gradually  the  desire  of  revenge 


286  THE  CABIN  BOY'S  STORY. 

engrossed  my  soul.  I  bided  my  time.  Another  year  passed 
slowly  by.  The  Circassian,  Leila,  still  retained  her  power 
over  her  "lord.  She  had  borne  him  a  daughter,  whom  he  called 
Mirza,  within  a  •  year  from  the  time  he  brought  her  to  his 
harem,  and  during  this  fifth  year,  a  second  daughter,  Bedita, 
was  born.  My  plan  was  resolved  upon  :  I  watched  the  oppor 
tunity,  and  one  day  when  Mirza  was  wandering  alone  by  the 
seaside,  I  had  her  seized — for  I  had  my  partisans  still,  who 
hated  their  chief,  and  she  was  carried  off  to  Constantinople  and 
sold,  to  grace  the  Sultan's  harem.  I  had  a  double  revenge; 
for  I  watched  with  delight  the  anger  of  the  father  and  the  an 
guish  of  the  mother ;  while  my  girdle  was  weighty  with  the  pi 
astres  that  the  girl's  marvellous  beauty  had  drawn  from  the 
purse  of  the  slave  merchant.  From  that  day  forward,  the 
haughty,  dainty  Leila  pined  away  by  slow  degrees  beneath  the 
ravages  of  an  insidious  disease,  which  impaired  her  beauty  and 
rendered  her  loathsome  to  the  proud  Vicenzo.  Listen  ! — she 
died  from  the  effects  of  a  slow  but  acrid  poison,  by  me  admi 
nistered  in  minute  potions,  and  /,  pretending  to  soothe  her, 
watched  by  her  dying  bed,  alone;  for  Yicenzo  shunned  her, 
then  :  and  when  her  spirit  was  about  to  take  its  flight,  I  whis 
pered  in  her  ear,  "  it  was  /,  Zoe,  who  sold  your  first-born, 
Mirza,  to  the  Maliommedau  tyrant.  It  is  /,  Zoe,  who  have 
administered  the  poison,  which  has  brought  you  to  this  bed  of 
death  and  destroyed  your  beauty,  and  alienated  the  affections 
of  your  loving  lord  ;  and,  hearken,  Leila  :  You  have  another 
daughter;  she,  too,  shall  feed  the  lusts  and  pride  of  the  detested 
Mussulman,  and  shall  live  to  curse  the  mother  who  gave  her 
birth.  The  wretched  woman  shrieked  aloud  in  agony  as  I  ut 
tered  this,  and  on  the  wings  of  that  shriek  her  spirit  took  its 
flight.  Ha  !  ha  !  was  not  I  revenged  ?" 

"  Bedita  was  not  sold  to  the  Turks/'  said  Marca. 

"  No  :  this  Frank  offered  a  higher  price,  and  I  sold  her  to 
him.  He  thought  I  was  her  mother,  and  so  Bedita  thought; 
for  during  her  mother's  illness,  and  after  her  death,  she  was 
nursed  and  tended  by  me." 

"  And  Yicenzo — how  long  did  he  live  after  the  conspiracy 
had  ripened  which  I  set  on  foot  to  subvert  his  power  in  these 
islands  ?" 

"  Not  long.  I  would  tell  you  the  manner  of  his  death,  and 
relate  my  son's  history,  but  I  see  people  approaching  us. 
Another  time  you  shall  know  more — and  /  must  hear  your  his 
tory. 


THE  CABIN  BOY'S  STORY.          287 

The  two  women  parted  and  walked  carelessly  in  opposite  di 
rections,  as  a  party  of  pleasure  seekers  drew  near  the  beach. 
****** 

Let  us  now  enter  the  chamber  of  Zuleika. 

The  young  mother  is  seated  on  her  bed,  propped  np  with 
pillows,  and  by  her  side  stands  Jane  Miller,  not  now  attired  in 
the  clothing  of  a  sailor  boy  ;  but  in  a  garb  of  Greek  fashion 
more  befitting  her  sex.  She  has  resolved  to  continue  her  disguise 
no  longer.  She  is  bending  over  the  couch,  and  whispering 
words  of  consolation  to  the  delighted  mother,  who  is  watching 
with  eager  gaze  the  unconscious  babe,  lying  asleep  in  the  arms 
of  the  negress  attendant,  Julia,  who  is  sitting  near  the  case 
ment. 

"  Oh,  that  George  were  here  to  see  his  child,"  murmurs 
Zuleika  from  time  to  time,  as  Jane  Miller  tells  how  proud  the 
father  will  be  to  see  the  infant,  and  dilates  upon  those  points 
of  resemblance  to  the  father  in  the  babe's  features,  which  none 
but  woman  cau  discern. 

"  And  is  there  no  resemblance  to  me?"  asks  Zuleika.  "I 
would  wish  my  child  to  resemble  both  her  father  and  her 
mother.  George,  methinks,  would  wish  that  himself." 

"  The  eyes  are  yours,"  answered  Jane,  "  and  so  is  the  con 
tour  of  the  face  ;  but  the  nose  and  mouth  are  the  counterparts 
of  her  father's.  What  name  shall  you  call  her  ?" 

"George  wished  me  to  call  the  child  Zuleika,  if  it  should 
prove  a  girl,"  answered  the  young  mother.  "  It  shall  be  as  he 
desired." 

There  was  a  few  moments  silence,  for  Zuleika  was  weak  and 
easily  fatigued  with  speaking.  At  length  she  said — half  uncon 
sciously  as  though  thinking  aloud,  for  her  thoughts  dwelt  con 
tinually  upon  her  husband — "  George  has  been  a  long  time 
absent  now.  He  must  soon  return." 

"  It  is  hardly  three  months  since  he  left  the  island,  dear 
Zuleika,"  said  Jane.  "  He  said  he  should  be  five  months 
absent.  We  cannot  expect  him  yet." 

"  Oh,  that  he  were  here,"  answered  Zuleika,  repeating  aloud 
the  constant  burden  of  her  thoughts  ;  "  Do  you  know,  Jane, 
it  may  be  folly — weakness  on  my  part  ;  but,  for  some  nights 
before  the  birth  of  my  babe,  I  had  strangely  frightful  dreams! 
I  thought  there  was  some  secret  evil  brewing  that  would  work 
out  the  destruction  of  my  husband  and  my  child — and,  kind 
and  attentive  as  the  aged  Marca  has  become  since  George  has 
been  absent — how  silly  I  was  to  be  frightened  of  her — it 


288          THE  CABIN  BOY'S  STORY. 

always  seemed  as  though  she  were  mixed  up  in  these  horrible 
visions.  I  fancied  I  saw  her  gloating  over  my  misery  ; — but, 
if  aught  were  to  happen  to  George,  I  should  not  live  long  to 
lament  his  loss.  I  should  go  and  rejoin  him,  with  my  child,  in 
another  and  a  happier  world." 

"  You  must  strive  to  banish  these  foolish  fancies,"  said  Jane, 
"  they  are  only  created  by  your  anxiety  and  weakness.  You 
must  look  forward  to  a  happy  re-union  with  your  husband,  in 
a  month  or  two  more,  and  recollect  his  promise,  that  when  he 
returns  you  are  to  be  parted  no  more  on  earth." 

"  Yes,  George  promised  he  would  never  leave  me  again," 
said  Zuleika,  and  her  pale  face  brightened  up  with  the  happy 
thought.  But,  although  Jane  Miller  spoke  thus  encouragingly 
to  the  youthful  mother,  her  heart  was  filled  with  anxious  fore 
bodings.  She  feared  that  retribution  would  overtake  Seymour, 
though  she  was  ignorant  of  a  tithe  of  his  crimes — and  she 
knew  that  should  evil  occur  to  him,  Zuleika  spoke  truly  when 
she  said  that  she  should  not  long  survive  him.  Besides — 
although  Marca  had  been  kind  to  Znleika  since  her  husband's 
absence — had  even  been  assiduous  in  her  intentions — there  was 
something  indescribable  in  the  manner  of  the  aged  sibyl— 
which,  setting  aside  her  witch-like  appearance,  had  rendered 
her — though  she  strove  to  hide  her  fears — a  source  of  dislike 
and  terror  to  Jane. 

Zuleika  sank  upon  the  pillow  and  fell  into  a  slumber,  and 
Jane  sat  watching  by  her  side — watching  anxiously — for  the 
sleep  of  the  pale  young  mother  was  uneasy,  and  ever  and  anon 
she  would  murmur  words  of  portentous  warning,  as  though  the 
seals  of  prophesy  were  opened  to  her  in  her  dreams  ;  and  twice 
she  started  up,  uttering  in  tones  of  anguish  : 

"  My  babe!  my  babe!  No,  George,  they  shall  not  touch  my 
babe!"  and  her  eyes  sought  the  form  of  the  infant  as  it  still  lay 
sleeping  in  the  nurse's  lap,  and  she  smiled  at  the  foolish  terror 
of  her  dreams,  and  composed  herself  to  sleep  again.  And 
while  she  slumbered,  Marca  came  into  the  cottage,  and  asoend- 
ing  the  stairs  with  noiseless  step,  entered  the  bed-chamber,  and 
advancing  to  the  nurse,  stooped  and  gazed  steadily  into  the  face 
of  the  sleeping  child.  Then,  apparently  satisfied  with  her  scru 
tiny,  she  seated  herself  quicty  by  the  couch  of  the  mother,  and, 
greatly  to  the  annoyance  of  Jane  Miller — though  she  dared 
not  express  the  displeasure  she  felt — she  joined  her  in  her  vigils 
over  the  slumbers  of  Zuleika. 


THE  CABIN  BOY'S  STORY.  289 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 

In  which  King  Kettle  shows  that  he  possesses  as  great  Skill  in  Diplomacy 
as  more  Ch7ilized  Potentates — -Mr.  Mordant  hears  more  Unwelcome 
News,  and  receives  a  visit  from  the  Yankee  Mate,  Tolcroft. 

MR.  TOLCROFT,  the  chief  officer  and  temporary  commander 
of  the  Albatross,  had  navigated  the  vessel  safely  into  the  ac 
customed  port  in  the  Loango  country,  and  Tolcroft  had  so  far 
succeeded  in  securing  the  object  of  the  voyage  as  to  have  ob 
tained  the  promise  of  a  prime  cargo  of  slaves  from  the  famous 
King  Kettle;  but  his  majesty  of  Loango  had  lately  been 
visited  by  a  missionary,  who  had  accompanied  one  of  the 
crusiers  during  an  excursion  along  the  coast,  and  what  be 
tween  the  arguments — somewhat  dictatorial — of  the  commander 
of  the  crusier,  and  the  soft  persuasions  of  the  missionary,  and 
the  gratification  he  had  felt  in  the  presentation  of  a  bran  new 
marine's  regimental  coat  with  gorgeous  blue  worsted  epaulettes, 
the  worthy  monarch  had  experienced  some  twinges  of  consci 
ence,  and  began  to  consider  whether  he  was  actually  acting  in 
good  faith  towards  his  ally  and  good  sister  potentate,  Queen 
Yictoria,  of  Great  Britain,  with  whom  he  had  entered  into  a 
treaty  offensive  and  defensive,  half  a  dozen  tunes  over,  to  ex 
ert  his  benign  influence  to  suppress  the  slave  trade  throughout 
his  dominions,  and  to  render  such  aid  as  lay  in  his  power  to 
effect  the  capture  of  any  slavers  that  should  call  along  the 
coast.  Still,  it  was  a  matter  of  serious  moment  to  King 
Kettle,  for  although  the  scarlet  regimental  coat,  and  the 
twinges  of  conscience,  and  the  sensations  of  pride  at  being 
called  "  my  brother"  by  the  great  white  Queen,  who  kept  her 
court  on  the  other  side  of  sun-set,  had  done  much  to  awaken  a 
right  feeling  in  the  bosom  of  the  sable  monarch,  yet  there 
were  other  motives  to  be  considered,  and,  like  a  good  many 
other  potentates,  King  Kettle  felt  that  he  must  necessarily 
make  conscience  subservient  to  interest,  if  he  hoped  to  main 
tain  a  financial  balance  on  the  right  side  .of  his  exchequer. 
Red  coats  and  worsted  epaulettes,  and  flummery,  were  all  very 
well  in  their  way;  but  the  disposal  of  one  good  cargo  of 
slaves  would,  he  knew  by  experience,  go  much  further  to  fill 
the  coffers  of  his  money  chest  in  his  good  capital  of  cane 


290  THE  CABIN  BOY'S  STORY, 

palaces  and  mud  houses — the  city  of  Loango.  Consequently, 
when  the  Albatross  arrived  at  Majumba,  King  Kettle,  was 
somewhat  in  a  state  of  perplexity.  He  had  a  fine  lot  of 
slaves  at  Quoddah,  who  had  been  eating  him,  to  use  a  vulgar 
phrase,  out  of  house  and  home,  during  the  long  period  they 
had  been  kept  in  seclusion,  in  consequence  of  the  visit  of  the 
man-of-war  schooner  ;  besides,  the  paddy  (rice)  crops  had 
failed,  and  the  conjurors  had  told  him  that  it  was  necessary,  to 
avert  a  famine,  to  sacrifice  fifty  slaves  to  Cassa  Jmnba,  as  the 
wrath  of  the  Obeah  had  been  kindled  in  consequence  of  the 
long  palaver  the  monarch  had  held  with  the  Englishmen.  His 
Majesty's  exchequer,  too,  had  run  so  low,  during  this  long 
interlude,  that  he  had  been  under  the  necessity  of  imposing  an 
income  tax  of  one  peck  on  the  bushel  of  rice,  which  sadly  op 
pressed  his  subjects,  who  had  begun  to  cry  out  for  measures 
of  reform,  and  to  threaten  to  overturn  the  ministry  and  sac 
rifice  the  ministers  themselves — not  on  the  altar  of  political  in 
trigue,  but  on  that  of  the  great  Jumba  himself — the  Devil  of 
the  country — a  much  more  expedient  and  expeditious  method 
of  getting  rid  of  obnoxious  ministers  than  that  practiced  in 
more  refined  communities.  King  Kettle  had  so  far  followed 
the  advice  of  the  conjurors  as  to  make  a  great  show  for  his 
people  and  kill  three  of  the  oldest  of  his  wives,  who  had  grown 
fat  and  lazy,  and  whom  he  thought  he  could  make  no  better 
use  of,  and  thus  he  hoped  to  appease  the  wrath  of  the  Obc.ih, 
and  postpone  the  sacrifice  of  the  slaves,  who  would  fetch  a 
good  price  when  the  next  slaver  arrived;  but  the  blight  in  the 
paddy  fields  still  continued  and  his  Majesty's  subjects  still 
grumbled  more  and  more,  as  day  after  day  they  brought  their 
heavy  tribute  of  rice  and  emptied  it  into  the  royal  treasury. 
In  a  word,  King  Kettle  was  in  a  quandary. 

At  this  period  of  disaffection,  shortly  after  the  man-of-war 
schooner  had  sailed,  the  Albatross  arrived  on  the  coast;  but 
it  was  soon  evident  to  the  keen  eye  of  the  King  that  her 
master-spirit  was  no  longer  on  board,  to  superintend  the  affairs 
of  the  vessel.  The  rigid  discipline  usually  maintained  on 
board  the  beautiful  craft  was  greatly  relaxed — drunkenness 
and  insubordination  had  gained  the  upper  hand,  and,  although 
Tolcroft  and  his  brother  officers  managed  the  trading  portion 
of  their  business  with  com  mend  able  shrewdness,  when  the 
duties  of  the  day  were  over,  the  vessel's  decks  became  a  scene 
of  lawless  licentiousness. 

King  Kettle  summoned  a  mooting  of  his  privy  council,  and 


THE    CABIN    BOY'S    STORY.  291 

submitted  a  respectful  request  to  the  chief  conjuror  and  ma 
gician  of  the  empire,  to  meet  them  at  the  board.  The  great 
man  came,  attended  by  a  retinue  of  his  followers,  one  of  whom 
carried  him  on  his  shoulders,  so  that  his  sacred  feet  were  not 
contaminated  by  the  dust  of  the  earth.  The  great  high  priest 
was  handsomely  dressed  in  a  robe  of  lion's  skin,  so  fashioned 
that  the  skin  of  the  head  formed  a  capote,  and  being  drawn 
over  the  head  of  the  conjuror,  gave  him  a  terrific  and,  at  the 
same  time,  a  dignified  aspect,  the  effect  of  which  was  greatly 
enhanced  by  the  tasteful  arrangement  of  various  and  many- 
colored  snakes'  skins,  which  were  fastened  around  his  neck, 
and  arranged  in  fanciful  festoons  round  his  arms,  body,  and 
legs — added  to  which  a  magnificent  lion's  tail,  artificially  stif 
fened,  was  affixed  to  his  posterior,  sticking  out  at  an  angle  of 
forty-five  degrees,  full  six  feet  from  his  body.  Altogether,  the 
mighty  conjuror  looked  awfully  and  impressively  grand.  He 
was  received  with  all  the  honors  due  to  his  sacred  office. 
King  Kettle  danced  before  him  through  the  village  in  propria 
persona,  his  attendants  playing  an  enlivening  strain  upon  bam 
boo  flutes  and  a  species  of  drum  made  of  monkey's  hide,  and, 
at  the  door  of  the  council  hut,  the  women  sat  around  in 
groups,  heaping  handfuls  of  dust -on  their  heads,  and  writhing 
and  grovelling  on  the  earth  like  so  many  serpents,  at  the  same 
time  singing  a  wild  chorus,  extolling  the  might  and  power,  the 
glory  and  the  beauty  of  the  Cassa  Jumba  and  his  great  high 
priest.  As  soon  as  the  door  of  the  council  chamber  was 
closed,  the  magician  graciously  signified  his  desire  that  the 
women  should  be  commanded  to  cease  their  infernal  noise;  and 
in  his  turn  King  Kettle,  anxious  to  do  all  homage  to  his  dis 
tinguished  visitor,  signified  his  gracious  permission  for  them  to 
retire,  by  going  out  amongst  them  himself  and  kicking  them 
away.  The  conjuror  then  asked  for  some  rum,  which  was 
handed  to  him,  and  after  having  imbibed  a  huge  draught,  he 
declared  himself  ready  to  listen  to  his  Majesty  the  King  and 
the  mighty  chiefs  in  council  assembled. 

We  dare  not  penetrate  into  the  mysteries  of  the  solemn  con 
clave;  the  chiefs  and  the  conjurors  were  closeted  for  somo 
hours,  and  the  result  of  their  deliberations  will  be  gleaned  from 
what  followed.  That  the  meeting  was  harmonious  and  satis 
factory  to  all,  may  be  assumed,  however,  from  the  fact  that  at 
the  expiration  of  the  session  the  great  conjuror  and  King 
Kettle  were  borne  away  upon  the  shoulders  of  their  attendants, 
both  in  a  condition  of  beastly  intoxication,  while  it  was  spread 


292  THE  CABIN  BOY'S  STORY. 

through  the  village  that  the  great  Cassa  Jumba  (the  devil 
himself)  had  deigned  to  enter  in  spirit,  into  the  heads  of  the 
King  and  the  High  Priest,  and  the  impost  would  no  doubt  be 
soon  removed,  and  the  threatened  famine  averted. 

As  soon  as  King  Kettle  had  recovered  from  the  headache 
and  the  symptoms  of  nausea  which  had  supervened  when  the 
spirit  had  departed  from  his  brain,  he  went  on  board  the 
slaver,  and  concluded  a  satisfactory  bargain  with  Tolcroft  to 
furnish  him  with  five  hundred  slaves,  with  all  possible  dispatch, 
expressing  his  regret  at  the  same  time  that  several  days  must 
necessarily  elapse  before  they  could  be  brought  down  from  the 
depot  at  Quoddah. 

Having  settled  this  matter,  his  majesty  dispatched  his  prime 
minister  to  the  city  of  Loango,  the  capital  of  the  country  of 
that  name,  which  is  situated  some  seventy  miles  to  the  south 
ward  of  Majumba,  with  information  to  the  captain  of  the  man- 
of-war  schooner,  which  was  believed  still  to  be  at  anchor  off 
the  city,  to  the  effect  that  the  noted  slave  ship,  the  Albatross, 
was  in  port,  and  that  if  the  captain  would  come  to  Majumba 
on  a  certain  day,  he  could  easily  capture  her — loaded  with 
negroes — and  thus  secure  a  famous  prize,  for  which  information 
his  majesty  trusted  the  captain  would  take  him  into  favorable 
consideration,  and  not  fail  to  remember  him  to  his  beloved 
sister,  the  Queen  of  England. 

This  was  of  course  good  news  to  the  officers  and  crew  of  tho 
Queen's  ship,  and  they  failed  not  to  avail  themselves  of  it,  al 
lowing  sufficient  time  to  elapse,  however,  before  they  made 
their  appearance  off  Majumba,  for  the  slaver  to  perfect  her 
loading. 

Meanwhile  King  Kettle  got  his  slaves  down  from  the  depot, 
and  placed  all  on  board  but  fifty,  receiving  the  price  stipulated 
for  the  whole  number;  but  reserving  fifty  of  the  women  and 
children  to  the  last,  on  the  plea  that  they  needed  to  recruit 
their  strength  as  much  as  possible  before  being  confined  in  tho 
baleful  atmosphere  of  the  ship's  hold.  Had  the  shrewd  Cap 
tain  Seymour  been  on  board  the  Albatross,  he  might  have  had 
his  suspicions  aroused  by  this  extraordinary  show  of  humanity 
on  the  part  of  King  Kettle,  but  it  was  not  so  with  Tolcroft 
and  his  subordinates,  who  were  rather  glad  of  the  opportunity 
afforded  them  of  keeping  the  crowded  'tween  decks  as  free  as 
possible  until  the  vessel  sailed.  Slaves,  to  the  number  of  four 
hundred  and  fifty,  were  closely  packed  on  board  $he  ship, 
which  still  lay  at  anchor  in  a  narrow  inlet,  scarcely  a  rod  from 


THE    CABIN    BOY'S    STORY.  293 

the  shore  on  either  side.  The  remaining  fifty  were  to  be  taken 
on  board  the  following  morning,  after  which  the  vessel  was  to 
sail,  and  this  night  was  to  be  one  of  jovial  carousal  in  honor  of 
having  so  far  successfully  accomplished  the  object  of  the  voyage. 

By  midnight  scarcely  a  soul  on  board  the  Albatross  was 
sober,  save  the  miserable  wretches  who  were  confined  beneath 
the  hatches  on  the  crowded  slave  deck.  They  lay  in  heaps, 
groaning  and  struggling  in  all  the  horrors  of  mental  and  bodily 
agony. 

There  was  a  nominal  watch  kept  on  deck,  but  the  approach 
of  the  schooner  had  not  been  perceived,  and  she  cast  anchor 
almost  at  the  mouth  of  the  inlet  without  any  alarm  being 
given.  Boats  were  lowered,  and  manned  and  armed,  and  they 
proceeded  up  the  inlet  pulling  with  muffled  oars,  and  secured 
from  observation  by  the  dense  breeze  which  arose  from  the 
water,  until  they  had  approached  within  a  few  yards  of  the 
devoted  slaver.  Then  the  half  drunken  watch  perceived  their 
approach,  and  firing  a  pistol  off  at  random,  he  gave  the  alarm 
to  his  comrades;  but  it  was  too  late,  even  had  the  officers  and 
crew  been  in  a  situation  to  offer  resistance.  They  reeled  and 
stumbled  up  from  their  carouse,  hastily  arming  themselves  with 
such  weapons  as  came  most  readily  to  hand;  but  the  man-of- 
war's  men  had  in  the  meantime  gained  the  deck,  and  the  con 
flict  was  short  and  decisive — five  of  the  drunken  seamen  of  the 
slaver,  besides  Allan  and  Perrin,  the  second  and  third  officers, 
were  killed,  and  the  red  flag  of  England  was  run  up  to  the  gaff 
end  of  the  Albatross,  and  the  beautiful  vessel  declared  to  be 
the  lawful  prize  of  Her  Majesty's  schooner  Audacious.  She 
was  a  famous  prize,  for  besides  the  head  money  that  would  be 
paid  for  the  slaves  on  board,  she  was  amply  provided  with 
stores  and  provisions,  and  the  vessel  herself  was  certain  of 
selling  for  a  very  large  sum  of  money.  King  Kettle  was 
readily  promised  a  handsome  reward  for  the  part  he  had  acted 
in  giving  information,  and  thus  he  not  only  secured  the  price 
of  the  whole  number  of  his  slaves  from  Tolcroft,  but  succeeded 
in  reserving  fifty  of  the  finest  amongst  the  women  and  children 
to  offer  as  a  propitiatory  sacrifice  to  Cussa  Jumba  ;  he  not  only 
satisfied  the  superstitions  of  the  conjurers  and  the  blood-thirsty 
cravings  of  his  subjects,  but  he  likewise  received  a  handsome 
douceur  in  the  shape  of  bounty  money,  into  the  bargain. 

The  arrangements  determined  upon  in  the  great  council  were 
admirably  carried  out—  Cassa  Jumbo,  had  not  fuddled  the 
brains  of  his  devotees  for  nothing;. 


294  THE    CABIN    BOY'S    STORY. 

Before  daylight  the  crew  of  the  slaver  were  heavily  ironed 
and  confined  under  hatches  amongst  the  slaves  ;  the  dead  had 
been  ruthlessly  thrown  overboard  during  the  night,  and  it  was 
thought  by  the  slaver's  crew,  as  well  as  by  the  captors,  that 
the  whole  of  the  officers  had  been  slain,  for  none  of  them  were 
to  be  found  in  the  morning.  This,  however,  was  not  the  case. 
Tolcroft,  the  chief,  had  succeeded  in  making  his  escape  during 
the  affray,  in  a  dingie  belonging  to  the  ship,  and  had  paddled 
out  to  sea.  A  prize  crew  was  put  on  board  the  Albatross, 
and  she  was  sent  to  Sierra  Leone  to  be  condemned,  and  in  the 
course  of  a  day  or  two  the  Audacious  sailed  also,  it  being  re 
quisite  that  the  captain  should  be  in  Sierra  Leone  when  the 
Admiralty  court  sat. 

Not  placing  too  implicit  faith  in  the  honesty  of  King  Kettle, 
the  captain  of  the  schooner  had  remained  behind  a  day  or  two 
to  search  the  village,  and  ascertain  whether  any  more  slaves 
were  confined  there  ;  but  King  Kettle  had  carefully  secreted 
the  women  and  children,  and  the  Audacious  sailed  without  her 
commander  having  discovered  how  egregiously  he  had  been 
duped  by  the  cunning  Loango  chief. 

When  she  had  fairly  left  the  harbor,  the  horrid  rites  of  the 
sacrifice  to  Cassa  Jumbo,  commenced;  the  women  and  children, 
half  dead  with  terror — for  well  they  knew  their  doom,  from 
the  preparations  that  were  going  forward — were  brought  out 
from  their  hiding-places  ;  faggots  were  piled  around  the  great 
square  in  the  centre  of  the  village,  and  after  being  scourged 
until  the  blood  flowed  from  them  in  torrents,  the  women  were 
burned  alive,  amidst  the  frantic  shouts  of  the  savages,  and  the 
devilish  incantations  of  the  conjurers.  The  children  were  re 
served  for  a  still  more  dreadful  fate.  Cords,  woven  from  co 
coa-nut  fibres,  were  stretched  from  tree  to  tree,  along  the 
square,  over  the  still  smouldering  ashes  of  the  hapless  women, 
and  the  children  were  tied*  together  by  the  legs,  and  strung 
head  downwards  along  the  cords  ;  fresh  faggots  were  piled  on 
the  ashes  of  the  victims  already  sacrificed,  and  the  fires  were 
again  lighted;  and  as  the  flames  and  smoke  ascended,  the  tom 
toms  beat  more  loudly,  the  bamboo  flutes  whistled  more  shrilly, 
and  the  savages,  frantic  with  unhallowed  passions,  shouted, 
and  danced,  and  screamed,  and  rolled  upon  the  earth,  as 
though  possessed  with  devils,  while  above  all,  could  be  heard 
the  agonized  shrieks  of  the  infant  victims,  as  they  struggled  to 
gether — tearing  each  other's  flesh  with  their  finger  nails  in 
the  intensity  of  the  torture  to  which  they  were  subjected. 


THE    CABIN    BOY'S    STORY.  295 

At  length  the  shrieks  grew  fainter  and  less  frequent,  as,  one 
by  one,  the  hapless  victims  died,  half  smothered  by  the  smoke, 
half  roasted  by  the  flickering  flames,  and  the  rope  parted, 
and  the  dead  bodies  dropped  into  the  fires,  which  flamed  up  as 
if  greedy  to  consume  them  to  ashes.  And  now  the  savages, 
who  had  looked  on,  lay  panting  on  the  earth  for  very  weari 
ness,  while  the  conjurers  gathered  together  the  black,  clammy 
ashes,  and  scattered  them  over  the  reeking  bodies  of  the  multi 
tude,  rendering  them  repulsive  in  aspect  to  a  hideous  degree.* 

Thus  for  hours  they  lay,  till  the  cooler  air  of  the  evening 
revived  them,  when  the  charred  remnants  of  the  horrible  sacri 
fice  were  ca-t  into  the  river,  as  food  for  the  alligators,  and  the 
great  sacrifice  to  Cassa,  Jumba  was  over.  The  Obea/i's  wrath 
was  appeased,  and  the  famine  was  arrested — so  said  the  con 
jurers — and  King  Kettle  promised  that  the  impost  of  rice 
should  be  removed. 

Such  is  the  description  of  a  scene  of  cruelty  by  no  means 
rare  in  this  benighted  land,  and  which  may  be  considered  par 
tially  as  the  result  of  the  endeavor — conceived  in  humanity  and 
a  spirit  of  philanthropy,  but  rife  with  cruelty  to  the  hapless 
slaves — to  prevent  the  trade  in  human  flesh,  by  the  interven 
tion  of  armed  cruisers  on  the  African  coast.  It  is  true  that, 
since  steamers  have  been  employed  on  this  duty,  a  better  watch 
than  formerly  can  be  maintained  ;  but  it  "is  known  that,  al 
though  supported  at  an  immense  cost,  so  far,  hitherto,  from 
preventing  the  abduction  of  negroes  from  the  coast,  the  known 
vicinity  of  these  cruisers  has  led  to  the  closer  packing  of  slaves, 
in  less  commodious  vessels;  to  the  sacrifice  of  thousands  to  the 
devilish  superstitions  of  the  savages  on  the  coast,  especially 
when  their  sale  has  been  retarded  and  the  expense  of  support 
ing  them  has  become  burdensome  ;  while  it  is  doubtful  if  one 
l-:-ss  has  been  brought  from  the  interior,  or  whether  the  trade 
has  in  reality  been  lessened  in  the  slightest  degree.  Only  by 
keeping  a  numerous  steam  flotilla  in  continual  activity  on  the 
whole  length  of  the  coast,  is  it  possible  that  the -trade  can  bo 
prevented,  and  as  regards  the  treaties  entered  into  with  native 
chiefs,  they  have  time  and  time  again  been  proved  to  be  per 
fectly  useless. 

Toleroft,  who,  the  reader  will  recollect,  we  mentioned  had 
ffi'iicled  his  escape  from  the  Albatross,  when  she  was  boarded 

*  Repulsive  as  this  description  maybe,  such  a  sacrifice  actually  took  place  on  the  Lo- 
ango  coast  two  years  since,  and  the  cruelties  described,  so  far  I'roai  being  exaggerated, 
are  shorn  of  .some  of  their  most  disgusting  features,  the  details  being  altogether  too  hor 
rible  and  indecent  for  minute  description. 


296  THE  CABIN  BOY'S  STORY. 

by  the  officers  and  crew  of  the  cruiser,  after  two  days'  expo 
sure,  without  food  or  water,  fell  in  with  a  trading  vessel,  and 
was  received  on  board.  He  stated  that  he  had  made  his 
escape  from  a  vessel  which  had  been  seized  by  the  savages 
while  dealing  with  them  for  ivory.  He  was  landed  at  Ben- 
guela,  whither  the  trader  was  bound,  having  been  generously 
provided  by  his  rescuers  with  clothing  and  such  necessaries  as 
he  required.  There  he  shipped  on  board  a  vessel  bound  to  the 
Cape  of  Good  Hope,  whence  he  obtained  a  berth  on  board  an 
American  vessel  from  Calcutta,  bound  to  New  York,  which 
had  touched  at  the  Cape  on  her  passage  from  the  East  Indies. 

Let  us  now  return  to  New  York  and  ascertain  how  affairs 
had  progressed  there  since  the  occurrence  of  the  events  de 
scribed  in  a  preceding  chapter. 

Mr.  Mordant,  the  morning  after  he  had  received  the  letter 
from  Mr.  Grindley,  left  his  home  for  the  city  at  an  earlier  hour 
than  usual.  On  his  way  he  called  at  the  store  of  the  tailor 
and  settled  the  account  due  by  his  son,  at  the  same  time  warn 
ing  the  tailor  not  to  allow  Charles  any  further  credit,  excepting 
upon  his  own  responsibility.  He  then,  in  no  very  pleasant 
frame  of  mind,  hastened  to  his  office  to  meet  Mr.  Grindley. 
He  found  that  gentleman  already  waiting  for  him. 

"  Good  morning,  Grindley,"  said  he.  "  I  received  a  letter 
from  you  last  night.  What  is  the  nature  of  the  pressing  emer 
gency  of  which  you  speak  ?" 

"I  believe  I  stated,  Mr.  Mordant,"  replied  Grindley,  "that 
it  had  reference  to  the  capture  of  the  Dolphin,  Junot's  vessel. 
The  fellow  who  gave  information  to  the  captain  of  the  sloop-of 
war,  and  whose  testimony  in  court  led  to  the  condemnation  of 
the  vessel,  has,  I  learn  from  your  agent  at  Sierra  Leone,  let 
out  hints  that  the  slaver  was  partly  owned  by  a  merchant  in 
New  York — meaning  yourself — and  furthermore,  the  scoundrel 
has  said  that  you  have  another  vessel,  wholly  owned  by  your 
self,  upon  the  coast.  Of  course  he  alludes  to  the  Albatross, 
and  a  vigilant  look-out  will  be  kept  for  her.  However,  she 
sails  like  a  witch,  and  will  manage  to  elude  them,  I  trust,  as 
she  has  done  before.  That  is  not  the  worst  feature  of  the 
case.  This  fellow  has  given  this  information  to  a  lawyer  of 
low  reputation  in  the  colony,  who  has  intimated  to  your  agent 
that  unless  you  make  it  worth  his  while  to  keep  silent,  he  shall 
consider  it  his  duty  (mark  the  fellow's  impudence)  to  write  to 
New  York  and  let  the  particulars  he  has  heard  be  generally 
known.  Now  I  have  hitherto  successfully  managed  this  por- 


THE  CABIN  HOY  S  STORY.  297 

tion  of  your  business,  and  I  would  advise  you  to  hush  the  mat 
ter  up.  The  agent  says  he  thinks  the  lawyer,  who  is  poor  as 
well  as  destitute  of  character,  can  be  quieted  by  the  payment 
of  a  thousand  dollars,  and  that  the  sailor  can  be  made  to  hold 
his  tongue  for  a  couple  of  hundred  more.  Of  course,  I  leave 
it  to  your  own  better  judgment  ;  but  I  should  say,  send  the 
money  by  the  next  mail.  In  such  matters  as  these  there  is  110 
time  to  lose." 

"But,"  said  Mr.  Mordant,  "supposing  I  should  pay  the 
money,  what  security  should  I  have  that  I  shall  not  be  sub 
jected  to  other  and  still  more  exorbitant  demands  ?" 

"  Why,  my  dear  sir,  though  the  man  is  destitute  of  any 
character,  he  still  has  a  certain  outward  semblance  of  integrity 
to  maintain,  as  he  holds,  I  am  given  to  understand,  a  small 
official  appointment  in  the  colony.  If  it  were  known  that  he  had 
received  hush  money,  he  would  be  ruined.  Now,  we  can  make 
him  give  a  receipt,  specifying  the  terms  on  which  he  has  received 
the  money,  and  hold  that  receipt  suspended,  like  the  sword  of 
Damocles,  over  his  head,  ready  at  any  moment  to  fall  upon  him 
and  hurl  him  headlong  to  ruin." 

"  What  harm  would  it  do  me,  supposing  he  fulfils  the  threats 
he  has  made.  Who  will  pay  attention  to  such  vague  reports, 
and  if  anybody  should  do  so,  how  would  they  affect  me  ?" 

"  What  harm  would  it  do!  How  would  it  affect  you!  My 
dear  sir,  excuse  me;  but  I  am  surprised  to  hear  you  speak  thus. 
What  harm  would  it  do  if  it  were  known  or  suspected  that  the 
wealthy  and  honorable  merchant,  Mr.  Mordant,  were  connected 
in  any  shape  with  a  business  which  is  held  felonious  by  the 
laws  of  the  country  ?  How  would  it  affect  you,  sir,  held  up  as 
a  philanthropist  and  a  leader  amongst  the  abolitionist  party, 
if  it  were  surmised,  however  slight  the  grounds  of  the  suspi 
cion,  that  you  were  yourself  an  importer  of  slaves  ?  I  leave  it 
to  yourself  to  judge  the  effect  that  would  be  produced." 

For  some  moments  the  merchant  appeared  irresolute  how  to 
act.  In  fact,  though  he  endeavored  to  maintain  an  appearance 
of  outward  composure,  his  nerves  were  so  unsettled  by  late 
events,  that  he  scarcely  knew  what  he  was  doing.  At  length 
he  said — "  Send  a  draft  for  the  payment  of  the  money,  Grind- 
ley.  Send  what  you  think  sufficient,  and  when  the  Albatross 
returns,  I  shall  wash  my  hands  of  this  business  altogether.  I 
have  met,  of  late,  with  nothing  but  mishaps.  Seymour,  too,  to 
have  left  me  in  the  lurch,  at  this  critical  period  as  he  has 
done." 

13* 


298  THE  CABIN  BOY'S  STORY. 

After  some  further  conversation  regarding  the  capture  of  the 
Dolphin,  and  an  examination  into  the  accounts  of  that  vessel, 
so  as  to  ascertain  the  exact  amount  of  the  profit  and  loss,  Mr. 
Grindley  retired  ;  but  he  had  scarcely  reached  the  street, 
before  another  visitor  arrived.  It  was  Mr.  Harvey. 

"  Take  a  seat,  Mr.  Harvey,''  said  Mr.  Mordant,  rather  tes 
tily,  for  he  was  in  anything  but  a  happy  humor;  "to  what 
cause  am  I  indebted  for  a  visit  from  you  this  morning  ?" 

"  I  have  called  relative  to  that  little  matter — the  estate  in 
Jersey." 

"  I  thought  that  matter  was  settled  long  ago,"  interrupted 
the  merchant;  "  I'm  sure  I  paid  handsomely  enough  for  it — 
three  years'  rental  of  the  property." 

"  I  hoped  it  was  settled,  myself,  sir,"  replied  the  lawyer 
coldly;  "  but  by  some  means  the  widow  Miller  has  received  an 
inkling  of  the  state  of  affairs,  and  she  has,  I  understand,  been 
consulting  a  certain  legal  gentleman  of  my  acquaintance  upon 
the  subject.  I  am  afraid,  sir,  there  is  trouble  brewing." 

"  Dear  me,  this  is  unfortunate,"  answered  the  merchant. 
"  What  had  better  be  done  ?" 

"  I  would  advise  a  compromise.  If  you  will  permit  me  to 
see  the  widow,  I  may  manage  to  effect  some  arrangement  by 
which  she  will  consent  to  take  the  estate  as  it  now  stands,  and 
forego  her  claims  to  the  back  rents,  which  must  amount  to 
many  thousands  of  dollars.  I  will  make  it  appear  that  you 
have  been  an  innocent  party  to  the — the — excuse  me — the 
fraud;  and  she  will  be  delighted  at  your  generosity  in  return 
ing  to  her  the  estate,  voluntarily,  as  it  stands." 

"  And  the  three  thousand  dollars  I  paid  you,  for  the  express 
purpose  of  putting  the  evidence  out  of  the  way  ?  that  is  lost  I 
suppose." 

"Under  the  circumstances,  irrecoverably  lost  I  fear,  Mr. 
Mordant,"  answered  the  lawyer,  with  the  utmost  sang  froid. 
(The  money  had  long  been  made  use  of  for  his  own  purposes.) 

"  Ruin  stares  me  in  the  face,"  thought  Mr.  Mordant;  then 
he  said,  "  I  have  heard  some  unpleasant  intelligence,  Mr. 
Harvey,  which  has  utterly  unfitted  me  for  business  to-day.  I 
will  not  prolong  this  interview.  In  God's  name,  see  Mrs.  Mil 
ler,  and  represent  things  as  favorably  as  possible ;  that  is,  if  she 
has  really  any  suspicion  how  matters  stand.  Perhaps  she  may 
be  induced  to  dispose  of  the  property,  under  the  circumstances, 
on  reasonable  terms.  You  understand." 

"  I.  will  do  my  best  to  put  matters  in  a  proper  train,"  replied 


THE  CABIN   EOY'S  STORY.  299 

the  lawyer,  as,  shaking  hands  with  the  merchant,  he  quitted 
the  office;  but  he  added  to  himself,  as  he  descended  to  the 
street,  "  she  may  dispose  of  the  property  ou  reasonable  terms, 
but  not  to  you,  Mr.  Mordant.  No,  no ;  I  have  you  under  my 
thumb  now,  and  I  will  make  you  bleed  freely  or  effect  your 
ruin." 

Mr.  Mordant  was,  as  he  stated,  utterly  unfitted  for  any  busi 
ness  that  day;  and  at  an  early  hour  he  left  the  office  for  his 
residence,  hoping  there  to  find  quiet  and  repose,  and  to  recover 
his  customary  equanimity;  but  he  reckoned  without  his  host. 
"  Misfortunes  never  come  singly,"  says  the  ancient  adage. 
Never  was  the  proverb  more  fully  verified  than  in  the  instance 
of  Mr.  Mordant,  at  this  period. 

When  he  reached  home  he  found  a  letter  awaiting  him,  bear 
ing  the  New  Orleans  post  mark,  and  he  recognized  the  hand 
writing,  as  that  of  Mr.  Wilson.  It  ran  as  follows  : 

NBW  ORLEANS, ,  18—. 

"  MY  DEAR  SIR— 

I  am  sorry  to  be  compelled  to  write  to  you  upon  a  subject 
of  so  distressing  a  nature,  the  more  especially  as  I  had  ventured 
to  hope  that  the  marriage  of  your  son  with  my  ward  Marie, 
would  lead  to  a  satisfactory  arrangement  as  regards  the  settle 
ment  of  our  affairs,  Marie,  having  under  certain  circumstances 
(that  is  to  say,  if  she  married  with  my  consent),  a  good  fortune 
at  her  own  disposal.  It  was,  therefore,  with  sentiments  of 
delight,  I  witnessed  the- devotion  of  Mr.  Charles,  when  he  was 
in  New  Orleans  last  year,  to  Marie,  who,  to  tell  the  truth,  is  a 
girl  whose  beauty  any  husband  might  be  proud  of — and  whose 
disposition  is  amiable,  while  she  has  rendered  herself  proficient 
in  all  the  accomplishments  of  the  day.  To  my  great  regret, 
however,  I  discovered  some  time  ago  that  Marie  was  averse  to 
the  marriage;  from  what  cause  I  know  not,  since  Mr.  Charles 
is  certainly  all  that  a  girl  could  require  in  a  husband,  however 
romantic  might  be  her  ideas — unless,  indeed,  the  girl  had  some 
prior  attachment.  Still  I  used  my  authority  to  enforce  a  mar 
riage  which  I  thought  so  eligible  in  eyery  respect,  and  should, 
no  doubt,  have  succeeded  in  causing  Marie  to  listen  to  the  suit 
of  her  lover,  and  she  could  learn  to  love  him  afterwards ;  you 
know  that  was  the  case  with  me  arid  Mrs.  Wilson — my  dear 
departed  wife — she  hated  me  when  she  married  me,  still  we 
lived  very  comfortably  together  after  all.  But  to  my  disnmy  I 
learned  yesterday  that  there  was  an  insurmountable  qb,stacle  to 


300  THE  CABIN  BOY'S  STORY. 

the  consummation  of  tins  union — nothing  less,  in  fact — I  may 
as  well  speak  plainly,  than  a  prior  marriage  on  the  part  of  yonr 
son,  whose  wife  is  still  living ." 

The  merchant  let  the  hand  which  held  the  letter  fall  in  his 
lap,  and  wiped  his  brow,  on  which  the  perspiration  stood  in 
bead-like  drops,  with  his  handkerchief.  "  Good  God  !"  said 
he,  "  what  dreadful  calamity  is  awaiting  me.  Misfortune 
pursues  me  unrelentingly  from  every  quarter.  My  son  married 
— I  know  not  to  whom! — probably  to  some  worthless  creature, 
whom  I  cannot  acknowledge  as  a  daughter,  or  else  why  this 
secresy  on  his  part.  My  eldest  daughter  eloped  with  a  music 
teacher;  my  vessel  captured,  and  threats  of  exposure  made,  by 
some  reckless  vagabond  abroad  ;  and  my  right  to  this  Jersey 
property  likely  to  be  disputed,  and  probably  infamy  to  result 
from  the  exposure  to  which  the  investigation  may  subject  me; 
and  then,  this  reckless  extravagance  on  the  part  of  Charles. 
But  he  shall  suffer  for  that.  I  will  cut  him  of  with  a  shilling. 
I  have  put  up  with  his  conduct  too  long." 

But,  even  as  he  uttered  the  last  sentence,  a  small,  still  voice 
seemed  to  whisper  in  his  ear — "  What  has  been  the  cause  of 
your  son's  extravagance  and  licentiousness.  As  the  twig  is 
bent  the  tree  is  inclined.  He  who  soweth  the  wind,  must  ex 
pect  to  reap  the  whirlwind." 

The  merchant  banished  the  unpleasant  thought  from  his  mind. 
"  Let  me  finish  the  letter,"  he  said,  and  again  he  sat  himself  to 
the  task  : — : 

«  <  *     *     *     Whose  wife  is  still  living/ 

"It  was  there  I  left  off. 

"  '  A  month  or  two  since  I  took  into  my  service  a  young 
woman,  named  Charlotte  Herbert — a  young  creature  of  pleas 
ing  exterior  and  lady-like  manners — and,  I  fear  me,  I  did  not 
take  sufficient  precaution  to  inquire  into  her  character.  She 
pleased  me,  however,  so  well ;  was  so  attentive  to  her  duties, 
which  were  those  of  governess  to  my  wards  and  nieces,  that  I 
thought  I  had  found  a  treasure  in  her  ;  and — this  is  between 
you  and  I — had  some  thoughts  of  asking  her  to  accept  the  po 
sition  of  mistress  of  my  house,  vacated  by  the  demise  of  the 
late  dear  departed  Mrs.  Wilson — I  requested  this  Miss  Herbert 
to  exert  her  influence  with  my  undutiful  and  wayward  ward, 
to  cause  her  to  alter  her  sentiments  with  regard  to  Mr. 
Charles  ;  and  she  promised  to  do  so — when  lo  and  behold! — a 


THE    CABIN    B01''s    STORY.  301 

pretty  mess  I  made  of  it — my  go-between  turned  round  upon 
me  with  a  vengeance.  She  was  a  long  time  closeted  with 
Marie  ;  and  after  waiting  impatiently  for  near  an  hour,  I 
thought  I  would  go  up  stairs  to  Marie's  room,  to  see  how  mat 
ters  proceeded,  and  to  add  my  persuasions  to  those  of  Miss 
Herbert.  What  was  my  astonishment  and  anger  to  find  the 
two  girls  sobbing  in  eacli  other's  arms,  and  attaching  epithets 
to  my  name  anything  but  complimentary.  They  started  up  on 
my  entrance,  and  on  my  asking  Marie  whether  she  had  altered 
her  mind  with  regard  to  your  son,  the  minx  rose  from  her  seat, 
and  sobbing  hysterically  said — • 

"  '  I  am  free,  sir,  free  from  your  vile  machinations;  this  lady 
is  Charles  Mordant's  wife,'  pointing  to  Miss  Herbert.  '  Thank 
Heaven!  I  am  free  from  his  and  your  importunities  on  this 
score.  Now,  work  your  will  towards  me  as  you  may.  Death 
were  preferable  to  the  embraces  of  such  a  monster.' 

"You may  imagine,  I  was  utterly  confounded  with  these  he 
roics,  especially  coming,  as  they  did,  from  the  lips  of  Marie  — 
who  is  generally  subdued  in  her  nature,  though  I  believe  sus 
ceptible  of  deep  feeling,  and  tinged  with  a  good  deal  of  non 
sensical,  romantic  sentiment. 

"  I  turned  for  an  explanation  to  Miss  Herbert.  '  What  is 
the  meaning  of  this  ?'  I  asked.  '  What  mummery  have  you 
been  practising  ?  Is  this  the  way  in  which  you  exert  your  per 
suasive  influence  ?' 

"  Up  she  started,  and  I  had  a  pair  of  female  fiends  confront- 
irfg  me. 

"  '  It  is  the  way  in  which  I  hope  all  such  vile  conspiracies  as 
that  in  which  you  have  been  engaged,  will  be  defeated,'  she 
said.  '  You  only  know  me  as  Miss  Herbert  ;  but,  sir,  I  am 
the  wife  of  that  vile  man  to  whom  you  would  sell  your  neice, 
body  and  soul.  My  name  is  not  Charlotte  Herbert,  but  Jean- 
nette  Dixon;  and  under  that  name,  in  an  evil  hour,  though 
thank  heaven!  it  has  been  productive  of  one  happy  result,  was 
I  married  to  Charles  Mordant.' 

"  I  was  so  overwhelmed  with  astonishment  that  I  quitted 
the  room;  the  two  girls  looked  like  a  pair  of  furies,  and  I  was 
really  alarmed.  I  thought  it  was  all  nonsense  ;  but  I  subse 
quently  made  inquiry,  and  find  it  is  correct.  Miss  Herbert  or 
rather  Miss  Dixon,  was  married  to  Mr.  Charles  at  Boston,  sev 
eral  months  since,  and  the  marriage  attested  by  a  magistrate. 
I  ordered  her  out  of  the  house,  forthwith,  and  locked  Marie  up 
in  her  own  room.  /  -will  have  my  recenge  out  of  her.  I  am 


302  THE  CABIN  BOY'S  STORY. 

afraid  this  letter  will  cause  you  considerable  annoyance  ;  but 
let  us  hope  that  some  means  may  be  found,  by  which  this  mar 
riage,  into  which  your  son  has  no  doubt  been  artfully  deluded, 
by  this  worthless  woman,  may  be  set  aside,  and  in  that  case  I 
may  state  that  I  have  another  neice  and  ward — Louisa — hand 
somer  than  Marie,  whom  Mr.  Charles  greatly  admired  when 
he  was  here;  but  who  was  at  the  time  too  young-  to  think  of 
matrimony,  and  regarding  whose  settlement  I  then  had  other 
views. 

"  Please  let  me  hear  from  you  as  soon  as  possible  ;  and  let 
me  hope  that  this  unfortunate  occurrence  will  not  interrupt  the 
harmony  and  friendship  that  exists  between  us. 
"  Yours,  very  truly, 

MAXIMILIAN    WILSON." 

Mr.  Mordant  heaved  a  deep  sigh  as  he  concluded  the  perusal 
of  this  letter.  His  feelings  partook  alike  of  grief,  annoyance, 
and  indignation.  "  Turned  the  girl  out  of  doors,"  he  said,  at 
length.  "  What  does  the  scoundrel  mean  by  that.  He  turned 
her  out  of  doors  believing  her  to  be  my  son's  wife  !  The  very 
way  to  close  the  doors  to  all  compromise.  Jeannette  Dixon  ! 
Jearmette  Dixon  !"  he  muttered  slowly  and  thoughtfully.  "As 
I  live,  the  daughter  of  the  Philadelphia  Quaker,  with  whom 
Charles  had  a  flirtation  some  time  back,  which  led  to  some 
sharp  and  unpleasant  correspondence  between  me  and  her 
father.  Well,  I'll  cast  him  off  altogether;  as  he  has  made  .his 
bed,  so  he  must  lay  in  it.  But,  I  shall  go  mad.  When  will 
there  be  an  end  to  these  troubles — " 

"A  gentleman  wishes  to  see  you,  sir,"  said  a  servant,  putting 
his  head  into  the  room  and  interrupting  the  merchant's  soli 
loquy. 

"  Desire  him  to  send  up  his  name,"  said  Mr.  Mordant. 
"  I  cannot  see  any  visitors  to-night,  I  will  see  him  to-morrow." 

"  If  you  please,  sir,  I  think  I  know  the  gentleman  ;  it  is 
Captain  Seymour,  whom  I  have  seen  here  several  times." 

"  Captain  Seymour!     Are  you  sure,  Thomas  ?" 

"  Yes,  sir;  I  can't  be  mistaken  in  him." 

"  Desire  him  to  step  up  stairs." 

"Captain  Seymour!"  soliloquised" the  merchant,  as  the  ser 
vant  went  to  deliver  his  message.  "  What  does  his  unexpected 
visit  bode  ?  Some  fresh  misfortune;  or  will  it  prove  the  pivot 
on  which  my  late  mishaps  will  turn  in  a  more  favorable  direc 
tion  ?" 


THE  CABIN  BOY'S  STORY.  303 

Captain  Seymour  entered  the  study. 

"  Seymour,"  said  the  merchant,  not  giving  his  visitor  time  to 
speak,  "  I  am  truly  glad  to  see  you,  though  you  played  me  a 
scurvy  trick  in  quitting  the  Albatross  as  you  did,  in  a  foreign 
port.  But,  take  a  seat  and  let  me  hear  your  news.  Do  you 
bring  me  any  favorable  intelligence  of  the  vessel  ?" 

"  I  am  sorry  to  say,  Mr.  Mordant/7  said  Seymour,  "  that  I 
am  the  bearer  of  ill-tidings  with  regard  to  the  Albatross ;  for 
I  presume  from  your  question,  that  you  have  not  yet  heard  the 
news;  indeed,  it  has  only  just  been  received,  and  was  but  half 
an  hour  since  posted  up  in  the  Merchant's  Exchange.  The 
Albatross,  with  a  full  cargo  of  slaves,  has  been  captured  with 
all  her  crew,  in  Majumba  Bay,  by  the  British  war  schooner 
Audacious,  and  condemned  at  Sierra  Leone  as  a  lawful  prize 
to  the  captors." 

The  intelligence  fell  so  heavily,  so  suddenly,  so  unexpectedly 
upon  the  ears  of  the  merchant,  that  he  was  deprived  of  the 
power  of  utterance.  His  head  fell  on  his  breast  and  his  face 
grew  purple  as  he  gasped  for  breath. 

"  You  are  ill,  sir,"  said  Seymour,  hastening  towards  him,  and 
unloosing  his  neckcloth;  "  allow  me  to  ring  for  assistance." 

"  No,  no!"  gasped  the  merchant — "  No.  I  shall  be  better 
presently — a  glass  of  water,  if  you  please — the  news  was  so 
sudden — but  you,  how  did  you  escape?  Ah!  I  forgot — my 
mind  is  strangely  bewildered  to-night — you  were  not  on  board. 
Captain  Seymour,"  he  added,  abruptly,  starting  from  his  seat, 
"  you  are  privy  to  this,  sir;  you  have  entered  into  a  conspiracy 
against  me." 

"  Be  calm,  Mr.  Mordant,  pray  be  calm,"  replied  Seymour. 
"  You  must  be  aware  that  I  am  incapable  of  such  an  act  as 
that  you  charge  me  with.  Circumstances  over  which  I  had  no 
control,  compelled  me  to  leave  the  vessel  at  Annabon;  but  had 
I  been  on  board,  I  could  not  have  prevented  her  capture. 
After  all  she  must  have  paid  you  handsomely;  paid  for  herself  • 
over  and  over  again.  She  is  gone,  and  her  loss  cannot  be 
helped." 

"  And  the  Dolphin  has  gone  likewise,"  interrupted  the 
merchant,  reseating  himself,  and  in  some  degree  recovering 
his  composure. 

"Well,  sir,  as  I  have  said,  you  have  made  money  out  of 
them,  and  other  ships  may  be  built  or  purchased,  which  may 
still  make  money  in  the  trade.  It  does  not  answer  to  be 


304 

daunted  by  misfortune.  Had  I  succumbed  to  adverse  influences 
I  should  long  ago  have  given  myself  over  to  despair." 

"  I  shall  not  engage  in  the  slave  trade  again,"  said  Mr. 
Mordant. 

'k  I  am  rejoiced  to  hear  you  say  so,  sir,"  answered  Seymour. 
"  I  have  arrived  at  a  similar  resolve  myself.  I  only  reached 
New  York  to-day,  and  should  have  called  to  inform  you  of  my 
determination  to  retire  from  the  sea,  to-night,  even  had  I  not 
heard  of  the  loss  of  the  Albatross — I  must  say  it  grieves  me 
sorely.  A  true  sailor,  Mr.  Mordant,  loves  his  ship  almost  as 
well  as  he  loves  his  mistress,  and  the  Albatross  was  all  that 
could  delight  the  eye  of  a  seaman.  Pity  that  so  sweet  a  craft 
should  fall  into  the  hands  of  the  Philistines  !  I  half  think,  had 
I  been  on  board,  I  would  have  sunk  her  first,  and  gone  to  the 
bottom  with  her  myself.  But  it  is  useless  to  regret  that  which 
is  past  and  cannot  be  recalled.  If  you  are  able  to  listen  to  me 
I  will  settle  matters,  so  far  as  we  are  concerned,  and  relate  to 
you  the  reason  of  my  quitting  the  vessel  at  that  critical  junc 
ture." 

"  Go  on,  Captain  Seymour,  go  on,"  said  Mr.  Mordant. 
"  Misfortune  has  pressed  heavily  upon  me  of  late.  I  do  not 
wish  to  meet  my  family  to-night.  Your  conversation  may 
serve  to  divert  my  mind  from  dwelling  upon  my  present  diffi 
culties." 

Seymour  had  barely  commenced  to  speak  when  the  servant, 
Thomas,  again  made  his  appearance  at  the  door  of  the  study. 

"  A  man  dressed  as  a  sailor  is  below,  and  wishes  to  see  you," 
said  he. 

"  I  can  see  no  one  to-night,  Thomas,"  replied  Mr.  Mordant, 
angrily.  "  What  can  the  man  want  with  me  ?  Tell  him  to 
call  to-morrow  at  my  office.  And  do  not  let  me  be  interrupted 
again  to-night." 

"  I  told  him  you  could  not  see  him  to-night,  sir,"  said  the 
servant;  "but  he  became  boisterous,  and  would  take  no  denial. 
He  says  his  name  is  Tolcroft,  and  that  he  was  chief  mate  of 
the  Albatross." 

"  Tolcroft !  chief  mate  of  the  Albatross  I"  exclaimed  Mr. 
Mordant,  looking  suspiciously  at  Seymour. 

"  Tolcroft  !"  said  Seymour.  "  What  d— Ps  wind  could  have 
blown  him  here  ?  I  thought  he  had  been  captured  with  the 
vessel  at  Majumba." 

The  servant  stared  in  astonishment  at  them  both. 


THE    CABIN    BOY  S    STORY. 

"You  knew  that  this  man  was  here  ?"  said  Mr.  Mordant, 
addressing  Seymour. 

"  No,  indeed,  I  did  not;  I  am  as  much  surprised  as  yourself. 
I  thought  he  had  been  captured  with  the  vessel." 

Boisterous  exclamations  were  heard  in  the  passage,  inter 
rupted  with  sundry  oaths,  and  presently  a  heavy  footstep  was 
heard  ascending  the  stairs. 

"Tell  the  man  to  come  up,  Thomas,"  said  Mr.  Mordant, 
making  a  virtue  of  necessity,  and  he  had  scarcely  spoken  the 
words  before  Tolcrofi  entered  the  room,  attired  in  coarse, 
tarry,  seaman's  clothing,  and  deeply  intoxicated. 

He  was  known  to  the  merchant,  who,  eyeing  him  sternly, 
demanded  what  had  brought  him  there  in  that  condition. 

"  My  lower  timbers,  I  guess,  master,"  rejoined  the  drunken 
seaman;  "  but  I've  had  a  mortal  foul  wind  and  heavy  weather. 
It  was  tack  ship  all  the  way,  and  two  or  three  times  I  came 
near  foundering;  but  I've  got  into  harbor  at  last,  and  now,  as 
I've  furled  my  sails,  and  am  safe  in  port,  Fll  provision  the 
hold,  by  your  leave.  I  see  you've  got  some  liquor  on  the 
table,  and  my  throat's  as  dry  as  a  ship's  rigging,  after  running 
the  Trades  down." 

Tolcroft  had  not  seen  Seymour,  who  had  purposely  hitched 
his  chair  back  to  avoid  observation. 

Mr.  Mordant  was  speechless  with  astonishment  at  the  man's 
insolent  behavior,  and  Tolcroft  coolly  filled  a  tumbler  with 
wine  and  drank  it  off  at  a  draught. 

"  What  is  your  business  with  me  ?"  said  the  merchant,  at 
length,  partially  recovering  himself. 

"  Business — business  enough.  The  Albatross  has  gone  to 
the  d — 1  and  Davy  Jones,  and  I'm  stranded  on  a  lee  shore; 
who  should  I  come  to  but  to  you  to  tow  me  off  again;  I'm 
hard  up;  riot  a  shot  left  in  the  locker,  and  you  must  come 
down  handsomely,  or  else  by it'll  be  the  worse  for  you." 

"  Sirrah  !"  exclaimed  Mr.  Mordant,  "  what  do  you  mean  by 
this  insolence  ?  Begone,  or  I'll  have  you  turned  out  of  doors." 

"  I  objects  to  that,  master,"  said  the  drunken  seaman;  "  out 
of  here  I  shan't  budge  a  foot  till  you  shell  out  enough  to  set 
me  going  on  a  spree,  and  I  shall  come  for  more  to-morrow, 
and  more  after  that  again  and  again.  You  can't  gammon  old 
Tolcroft." 

Mr.  Mordant  rang  the  bell,  and  the  servant  appeared. 

"  Thomas,  go  immediately  and  call  a  policeman,"  said  he. 

"  Xot  so  fast,"  said  Tolcroft,  stepping  towards  the  door  at 


306  THE  CABIN  BOY'S  STORY. 

which  the  servant  was  standing,  and  causing  that  functionary 
to  make  a  precipitate  retreat,  under  the  impression  that  the. 
sailor  was  about  to  hurl  him  down  stairs.  He*  closed  and 
locked  the  door.  "  Now,  Mr.  Mordant,"  said  he;  but  at  that 
moment  his  eye  fell  on  Seymour,  who  had  until  now  been  con 
cealed  by  a  screen.  He  started  back  with  mingled  astonish 
ment  and  dismay  depicted  in  his  countenance.  The  old  habit 
of  discipline  obtained  the  mastery  over  him,  and  assuming  that 
ludicrous  attempt  to  appear  sober,  peculiar  to  a  drunken  man, 
when  he  wishes  to  disguise  his  condition,  he  balanced  himself 
by  placing  one  hand  on  the  table,  and  with  the  other  pulled 
his  forelock,  and  scraping  his  foot  backwards,  made  an  awk 
ward,  salt-water  salute  to  his  old  commander. 

"  How  do  I  see  you  in  this  disgraceful  condition,  Tolcroft  ?" 
said  Seymour,  sternly;  "  and  what  do  you  do  here,  conducting 
yourself  in  this  outrageous  manner  ?" 

"Cap'n — Cap'n  Seymour,  I'm  hard  up,"  said  the  seaman; 
"and,  axing  yer  pardon,  I  tliowt  as  Mr.  Mordant,  who  owned 
the  ship  in  which  all  I  had  was  taken  from  me,  ought  to  do 
somethin'  to  help  a  poor  fellow  out  of  his  trouble." 

"And  this  is  the  way  you  choose  to  seek  for  relief,  is  it,  sir 
rah  ?"  continued  Seymour.  "  You  come  with  violence  and 
threats — dare  to  come  here  in  such  a  beastly  state  of  drunken 
ness  that  you  are  hardly  able  to  stand." 

"  Sober — sober — as  a  judge,  Cap'n,"  stammered  the  ci-de 
vant  mate  of  the  Albatross,  proving  his  assertion  by  stumbling 
backwards  and  falling  headlong  to  the  floor. 

"The  policeman  is  here,  sir,"  said  the  servant,  putting  his 
head  in  at  the  door,  and  looking  warily  round,  ready  to  start 
back  at  the  least  show  of  pugnacity  on  the  part  of  the  sailor. 

Tolcroft  lay  rolling  about  "the  floor,  muttering  to  himself, 
and  vainly  endeavoring  to  regain  his  feet. 

"  Allow  me  to  settle  this  matter  to-night,  Mr.  Mordant," 
said  Seymour  ;  "  the  fellow  will  do  as  I  tell  him."  Then, 
stepping  out,  he  made  some  explanation  to  the  policeman, 
and  bringing  him  into  the  room,  assisted  him  to  raise  the 
drunken  sailor. 

"  Tolcroft,"  he  said,  when  they  had  with  difficulty  enabled 
him  to  regain  an  upright  posture,  "you  will  go  with  this  gen 
tleman,  and  he  will  provide  you  with  a  comfortable  night's 
lodging,  and  to-morrow  you  will  come  to  me  at  the  Astor 
House.  You  wilf  direct  him  to  do  this  in  the  morning/'  con 
tinued  he,  addressing  the  officer. 


307 


11 1  will,  sir,"  said  the  police-man. 

"  Now,  Tolcroft,  you  hear  what  I  say  ;  go  away  quietly 
with  this  gentleman,  and  in  the  morning  I  will  see  what  I  can 
do  for  you." 

"  Any — thing  t — t — t'  oblige  you,  captain,"  stammered  the 
mate;  "st — st — steady  as — the  main  truck.  But  as  for  this 
f — f — fellow,"  shaking  his  list  at  the  merchant,  "  when  I 
c — c — catch  him  aboard  th' — th'  Albatross,  I'll  p — p — punch 
his  head." 

He  was  led,  meek  as  a  lamb,  out  of  the  room  by  the  officer, 
and  when  they  were  gone  Seymour  said — 

"I  see  you  are  disconcerted  to-night,  Mr.  Mordant,  and  I 
will  intrude  upon  you  no  longer.  I  am  stopping  at  the  As  tor 
House;  but,  with  your  leave,  I  will  call  to-morrow  and  renew 
my  acquaintance  with  the  ladies.  I  trust  that  stormy  as 
things  may  look  at  present,  all  will  yet  go  well."  So  saying- 
he  wished  the  merchant  good  night,  and  left  the  house. 

Mr.  Mordant  sat  for  some  time  after  his  strangely  unex 
pected  visitors  had  departed,  absorbed  in  reverie  of,  to  judge 
from  the  expression  of  .his  countenance,  no  pleasing  character. 
"  Good  God!"  said  he,  at  length,  as  he  rose  from  his  seat  and 
prepared  to  retire,  "  what  will  be  the  upshot  of  all  this  ?" 

Seymour  reached  the  hotel  and  went  to  his  room.  It  was 
growing  late,  and  he  was  fatigued ;  but  before  he  prepared 
to  retire  to  rest,  he  sat  down  by  the  table  in  his  bed-room, 
and  leaning  his  head  on  his  hands,  fell  into  a  profound  reverie. 
His  thoughts  were  far  distant — across  the  blue  water,  amongst 
the  lovely  islands  of  the  Grecian  sea.  "Where  is  Zuleika 
now  ?"  he  murmured.  "  What  is  she  doing  at  this  moment  ? 
Is  she  thinking  of  me,  poor  child,  as  fondly  as  I  am  of  her  ?  I 
cannot  doubt  it.  Am  I  a  father  ?  Perhaps,  ere  this,  Zuleika 
has  borne  me  a  child.  Oh,  what  would  I  not  give  now  to 
know  that  she  were  well — to  see  her  for  one  moment.  Well, 
well;  a  very  short  time  will  enable  me  to  settle  all  my  affairs 
in  this  country,  and  then  for  Zuleika  and  love!  I  will  quit 
her  no  more.  Together,  in  some  secluded  valley,  in  Switzer 
land,  perhaps,  we  will  find  a  home,  and,  I  trust,  lasting  happi 
ness.  It  has  been  a  romantic  dream — this  fancy  of  mine — to 
endeavor  to  educate  a  wife  from  girlhood  upwards,  in  seclusion 
— to  keep  her  from  all  contact  with  the  cold  and  heartless 
world.  But  when  I  shall  be  always  with  her,  my  Zuleika  shall 
go  more  into  society — she  shall  be  admired  as  she  deserves  to 
be.  I  find  that  the  social  instinct  of  man's  nature  will  not 


308  THE  CABIN  BOY'S  STORY. 

allow  him  to  be  happy  in  solitude  ;  but  Zuleika  has  borne 
this  for  me,  and  lives  only  in  the  light  of  my  love.  So  far  my 
scheme  has  succeeded.  Poor  child!  I  wonder  if  her  babe  is  a 
boy  or  a  girl,  and  whether  it  resembles  her.  If  it  does  I  shall 
be  jealous,  especially  if  it  be  a  girl.  I  could  not  bear  to  see  a 
second  Zuleika,  rivalling  her  mother's  charms.  Perhaps — but 
no,  I  will  not  allow  myself  to  think  of  that.  She  is  young  and 
healthful,  and  must  be  thriving  still. 

"  How  hollow  seem  the  pleasures  and  vanities  of  the  world, 
when  I  think  of  Zuleika!  I  thought  once,  and  I  had  reason 
to  think  so,  that  all  mankind,  and  womankind,  too,  were  de 
ceitful  and  wicked,  and  I  swore  enmity  against  my  race.  But 
I  think  differently  now,  and  perhaps  I  may  become  reconciled 
to  mankind,  when  I  live  constantly  with  her."  He  raised  his 
head,  and  leaning  upon  his  elbow,  commenced  building  Chat&iux. 
d'Espagne,  and  so  sat  in  a  half-waking  dream  for  hours,  until 
some  noise  in  the  street  aroused  him.  The  gray  light  of  dawn 
was  stealing  into  his  room,  and  the  candles  were  expiring  in 
their  sockets.  He  started  up,  and  smiling  at  his  abstraction, 
he  hastily  threw  off  his  clothes,  arid  getting  into  bed,  was  soon 
asleep,  and  dreaming  of  home,  and  his  mother,  and  his  boyish 
days,  and  his  past  career  of  lawlessness  and  crime.  Alternate 
lights  and  shadows  passed  over  his  mental  vision,  as  thus  he 
lay  sleeping  until  a  late  hour  in  the  morning  ;  but  there  was 
one  glorious  image  mixed  with  all,  whose  presence  diffused  a 
halo  over  the  darkest  shadows,  aud  gave  additional  refulgence 
to  the  brightest  fancies  of  his  dreams.  It  was  the  image  of 
Zuleika,  now  flitting  before  him  as  the  little  blue-eyed  girl, 
gazing  curiously  and  timidly  around  her  in  the  slave  market  at 
Constantinople  ;  now  as  the  young,  newly-wedded  bride,  upon 
whose  lips  he  pressed  the  husband's  first  kiss  of  love,  on  the 
island  of  Annabon;  now  again,  as  last  he  had  seen  her,  when, 
with  tearful  eyes,  she  clung  to  him  as  he  embraced  her  and  bade 
her  farewell,  ere  he  stepped  into  the  boat  that  was  to  bear  him 
to  the  felucca;  and  now — but  this  last  image  was  dim  and  iu-» 
distinct,  and  some  envious  shadow  seemed  to  obscure  his  vision, 
as  he  would  have  prolonged  his  ga.ze  upon  this,  the  fairest  pic 
ture  of  all — he  saw  her,  the  mother  of  a  lovely  babe,  blushing 
with  delight  and  love,  and  proud  in  her  young  matronhood, 
flying  to  meet  him,  bearing  the  infant  in  her  arms,  as  once 
again  his  boat's  prow  touched  the  shore,  and  he  stepped  lightly 
and  gaily  upon  the  level  strand  of  Zuleika's  Isle. 


309 


CHAPTER    XXX. 

Frank  Martin  Returns  Home,  and  has  an  Interview  with  Seymour,  dur 
ing  which  some  Strange  Revelations  are  made. 

"  WHY  Frank,  I  should  scarcely  have  recognized  you,  had 
I  met  you  in  the  streets,"  said  William  Martin,  after  the  first 
joyful  greetings  had  passed  between  him  and  his  brother — in 
Mr.  Ogilvie's  office.  "Why,  how  brown  you  are,  almost  as 
dark  as  an  Indian,  and  how  stout  you  have  grown,  and  tall 
too  ;  why  you  are  bigger  every  way  than  I  am — well,  what 
news  do  you  bring  ?  Oh,  Frank,  you  were  a  sad  dog  not  to 
write  to  us  after  you  sailed  from  New  York  with  Captain  Sey 
mour.  You  surely  have  never  thought  of  the  anxiety  that 
your  silence  has  occasioned  to  mother  and  to  all  of  us  ;  but 
what  wind  has  blown  you  here  ?" 

"  A  good  easterly  wind,  which  in  spite  of  its  aguish  ten 
dency  is  sometimes  of  service,"  replied  Frank  ;  "  but  I  came 
home  in  a  merchant  ship  from  Sierra  Leone,  having  been  inva 
lided  from  the  United  States  ship  G ,  on  board  which  I 

have  been  serving  for  some  months  past — and  which  will  arrive 
home  herself  soon,  for  she  was  to  sail  shortly  after  I  left,  for 
Norfolk.  Yellow  Jack  got  a  hard  gripe  of  me,  and  the  captain 

of  the  G ,  who  is  as  good  a  fellow  as  ever  trod  a  ship's 

deck — shipped  me  off  only  a  week  or  two  before-hand  for  fear 
that  I  should  suffer  a  relapse." 

"Then  you  have  been  employed  in  the  national  service, 
Frank  ?"  said  William  Martin.  "  How  was  that  ?  we  had  no 
information  of  it." 

"  Neither  did  I,"  replied  Frank,  "  I  assure  you  I  went  on 
board  a  man-of-war,  sans  ceremo-nie,  having  been  picked  up  at 
sea  with  just  the  toggery  I  happened  to  have  on — little  enough 
in  all  conscience." 

"  How  ?  were  you  wrecked?"  asked  William. 

"Wrecked  !  nay — a  d — lish  sight  worse — burnt  out  ;  a  fate 
bad  enough  to  befall  a  poor  fellow  on  land  ;  but  still  worse  at 
sea,  where  there  'are  no  back  doors  to  escape  from." 

"  Then  Captain  Seymour's  ship — what  was  her  name  ?  she 
belonged,  if  I  recollect  aright,  to  a  merchant  in  New  York 
named  Mordant — lias  gone  to  the  bottom.  We  should  have 


310  THE  CABIN  BOY'S  STORY. 

been  sadly  distressed  had  we  heard  of  the  accident.     Strange! 
we  did  not  hear  one  word  of  it." 

"  The  Albatross,  the  ship  you  speak  of,  may  have  gone  to 
the  bottom,  or  she  may  still  be  pursuing  her  unhallowed  trade 
above  water,  for  aught  I  know,"  said  Frank.  "  I  left  her  some 
time  before  the  accident  of  which  I  speak." 

"You  speak  in  enigmas,  Frank.  You  must  have  had  as 
many  adventures  since  you  left  the  old  homestead  at  Camden, 
as  that  Robinson  Crusoe,  whose  history  you  were  so  fond  of 
reading  when  a  boy.  Come,  let's  hear  your  story,  in  regular 
order,  from  beginning  to  end." 

Frank  commenced  the  narrative  from  the  day  he  was  sent 
on  board  the  Albatross,  continuing  it  to  the  hour  of  his  reach 
ing  Boston,  on  his  return  from  the  coast.  As  the  reader  is 
acquainted  with  the  material  of  the  narrative,  we  shall  not 
repeat  it  ;  but  it  proved  very  interesting  to  William  Martin, 
whose  quiet  profession,  as  a  lawyer's  clerk,  had  occasioned  him 
to  lead  a  life  of  quiet  monotony,  far  removed  from  the  excite 
ment  and  the  perils  which  befall  those  whose  vocation  leads 
them  forth  to  do  business  on  the  "  vasty  deep." 

"  I  declare,  Frank,  you  have  had  an  abundance  of  adven 
tures  since  last  we  met,"  said  William  Martin,  when  his  bro 
ther  had  concluded  his  narrative  ;  "  but  the  thought  has  just 
Hashed  through  my  mind — Do  you  know  anything  of  the  ante 
cedents  of  this  Captain  Seymour,  with  whom  you  sailed  from 
New  York,  and  who  fired  upon  you  when  endeavoring  to  effect 
your  escape  from  the  Albatross  ?" 

"  No.  He  is  a  strange  customer  altogether — an  educated 
man,  gentlemanly  in  appearance,  and  very  handsome  ;  but  the 
very  d — 1  when  his  passions  are  aroused  ;  but  why  do  you  ask  ?" 

"  Simply  because  a  matter  has  turned  up  possessing  consi 
derable  interest  to  our  family,  which  I  will  recount  to  you  by- 
and-by,  and  Mr.  Ogilvie  mentioned  the  name  of  Seymour  as 
being  connected  with  it ;  but  there  may  be  a  hundred  families 
of  that  name,  to  be  sure." 

"No  time  like  the  present,"  exclaimed  Frank.  "I  have  told 
you  my  story,  now  tell  me  yours.  You  say  it  treats  of  matters 
interesting  to  our  family — I  should  like  to  hear  it." 

William  Martin  related  to  his  brother  all  that  he  knew  him 
self  with  regard  to  the  circumstances  detailed  by  Mr.  Deane. 
In  the  course  of  which  narration,  he  alluded  to  the  ring  worn 
by  Jessica  Deane,  which  had  attracted  the  notice  of  Mrs. 
Donaldson. 


THE  CABIN  BOY'S  STORY.  311 

"  What  sort  of  a  ring  was  that  of  which  you  speak  ?"  inter 
rupted  Frank.  "  Describe  it  again,  will  you  ?" 

"  By  Jove!"  he  exclaimed,  when  his  brother  had  obeyed  him, 
"  that's  an  exact  description  of  the  ring  that  Charlotte  Her 
bert  wore  on  her  finger,  and  which  I  took  from  her  hand  after 
she  was  in  the  water.  I  thought  she  had  perished  from  cold 
and  exposure  ;  and,  although  I  scarcely  hoped  to  be  saved 
myself,  yet  I  thought  the  ring  might  be  a  valuable  memento  to 
her  family — should  my  life  be  preserved.  I  gave  it  back  to 

her,  a  day  or  two  after  we  got  on  board  the  G :  it  had 

the  letter  '  J'  engrayed  on  the  inside,  and  was  altogether  the 
very  counterpart  of  the  ring  you  have  described." 

"  There  is  a  string  of  mysteries  depending  upon  rings  of  that 
kind,  I  think,"  said  William  Martin — "  the  coincidences,  to  say 
the  least,  are  very  remarkable." 

Mr.  Ogilvie  called  William  from  the  inner  office,  and  he  left 
his  brother  alone  for  a  few  moments.  Frank  took  up  one  of 
the  New  York  morning  papers  which  lay  upon  the  table,  and 
glanced  his  eyes  carelessly  over  the  columns.  Presently  his 
attention  appeared  to  be  deeply  interested  in  a  paragraph,  and 
he  was  still  reading  when  his  brother  re-entered. 

"  What  so  deeply  absorbs  your  attention  in  that  newspaper, 
Frank  ?"  asked  William. 

"  It's  a  fortunate  thing  I  left  the  Albatross,"  answered 
Frank,  "  I  see  by  this  paper  that  she  has  been  captured  off 
the  coast  of  Africa,  with  a  full  cargo  of  slaves  on  board,  and 
carried  as  a  prize  into  Sierra  Leone,  where  she  has  been  con 
demned.  She  arrived  there,  I  see  by  the  date,  only  the  day 
after  I  sailed  ;  the  news  has  arrived  soon — but  the  old  tub  that 
I  came  home  in  sailed  like  a  dung  barge." 

"  Captain  Seymour  will  find  himself  in  an  awkward  predica 
ment  ?"  said  William. 

"Why,  no,  if  he  had  been  captured,  I  think  his  name  would 
have  been  mentioned.  To  be  sure,  he  might  have  been  killed  in 
the  skirmish,  if,  as  I  suppose,  a  skirmish  took  place  ;  but  I  rather 
think  he  must  have  made  his  escape,  for  I  see,  in  the  list  of 
arrivals  at  the  hotels  the  name  of  Captain  Seymour,  at  the 
Astor  House." 

"  He  ought  to  be  arrested,"  said  William. 

"  I  don't  see,"  replied  his  brother,  "  that  that  would  serve 
any  purpose.  No  cognizance  could  be  taken  relative  the  cap 
ture  of  the  Albatross  in  the  United  States." 

"  No,  but  I  mean  for  the  attempt  made  to  take  your  life." 


312  THE  CABIN  BOY'S  STORY. 

"  Oil,  as  for  that,  I  doubt  if  I  could  make  out  a  case  against 
him  sufficiently  strong  to  bring  him  to  account.  You  know  I 
have  no  witnesses.  There  would  be  simply  rny  own  testimony. 
However,  I  must  say  I  should  like  to  confront  him.  I  shall 
pass  through  New  York  on  my  way  home,  for  I  wish  to  see 
Mr.  Mordant,  and  I  shall  certainly  endeavor  to  see  this  Captain 
Seymour  also,  that  is,  if  I  find  he  is  the  person  I  suspect  him 
to  be." 

"  I  wish  you  would  let  me  introduce  you  to  Mr.  Ogilvie, 
Frank,"  said  William.  "  He  probably  would  like  to  see  you 
relative  to  this  affair  of  ours  he  has  on  hand." 

"  With  all  my  heart,"  replied  Frank,  arid  the  two  brothers 
entered  together  into  Mr.  Ogilvie's  private  office. 

The  lawyer  welcomed  the  brother  of  his  favorite  clerk,  and 
listened  with  interest  to  his  narrative,  which  William,  at  the 
instance  of  Mr.  Ogilvie,  insisted  upon  his  repeating. 

"  I  suppose  you  are  anxious  to  see  your  mother  and  sister, 
after  so  long  an  absence,"  said  he,  "  but  I  approve  of  your  re 
solve  to  call  upon  Mr.  Mordant,  whose  conduct  towards  you 
has  been,  to  say  the  least,  highly  reprehensible,  and  while  you 
are  in  New  York,  certainly  endeavor  to  discover  whether  the 
Captain  Seymour  mentioned  as  having  arrived  at  the  Astor 
House  be  really  your  old  commander." 

Mr.  Ogilvie  invited  the  young  sailor  to  dine  with  him;  but 
the  train  was  to  leave  in  an  hour,  and  wishing  his  brother  and 
newly-found  friend  farewell,  Frank  got  on  board  the  cars,  and 
was  soon  whirling  away  at  the  rate  of  thirty  miles  an  hour  to 
wards  New  York. 

Mr.  Mordant  was  seated  in  his  office  on,  the  morning  of  the 
second  day  after  his  interview  with  Seymour,  when  he  was 
informed  that  a  young  man  had  called  and  wished  to  see  him. 

"  Show  him  in,"  said  the  merchant,  and  Frank  Martin  was 
shown  into  the  room. 

"  What  is  your  business  with  me  young  man  ?"  asked  Mr. 
Mordant,  who  was  not  personally  acquainted  with  the  youth. 
"  My  name  is  Martin,  sir,"  replied  Frank. 

"  I  was  apprenticed  to  you  some  three  years  since,  and  last 
sailed  in  your  service  under  Captain  Seymour  of  the  Alba 
tross." 

Mr.  Mordant,  to  use  a  seaman's  expression,  was  taken  "  all 
aback"  at  this  announcement.  It  seemed  as  if  difficulties  were 
increasing  upon  him  to  such  a  degree  as  perfectly  to  overwhelm 
him.  He  imajrinecl  that  the  youth  had  made  his  escape  after 


THE    CABIN    BOY'S    STORY.  o!3 

the  capture  of  the  slaver,  and  like  Tolcroft,  had  now  called  upon 
him  for  the  purpose  of  demanding  hush  money,  and  he  replied — 

"  I  am  sorry  for  the  mishap  which  has  befallen  that  ill-fated 
vessel,  my  lad,  and  if  you  are  in  need  of  assistance,  I  shall  be 
glad  to  help  you.  I  have  other  ships,  in  one  of  which  I  will 
procure  you  a  berth ;  meanwhile  here  is  some  money  for  your 
present  necessities,"  taking  a  roll  of  notes  from  his  pocket. 

"  I  do  not  need  assistance,  sir,  and  I  was  not  on  board  the 
Albatross  at  the  time  she  was  seized  by  the  cruiser — I  escaped 
from  her  in  the  Bay  of  Aracati,  after  having  been  fired  upon  by 
Captain  Seymour  and  his  officers — because  I  no  longer  wished 
to  remain  on  board  a  vessel  engaged  in  a  disreputable  and  ille 
gal  traffic.  I  have  called  upon  you  to  demand  my  release  from 
the  indentures  which  bind  me  to  serve  you  for  five  years. 
Agree  to  do  that  and  I  shall  trouble  you  no  further.  I  wish, 
however,  to  know  whether  the  Captain  Seymour,  who,  I  per 
ceive  from  the  papers,  is  now  stopping  at  the  Astor  House  in 
this  city,  is  the  Captain  Seymour  who  formerly  commanded  the 
Albatross  ?" 

"  lie  is — he  is,  young  man,"  replied  the  merchant,  hurriedly, 
for  he  was  so  excited  that  he  scarcely  knew  what  he  was  say 
ing.  "  And — what  else  did  you  say  ?  Ah  !  your  indentures. 
Yes,  I  will  cancel  your  indentures — and  if  at  any  time  you 
should " 

"  Write  me  a  document  signifying  that  you  have  cancelled 
my  indentures,  and  give  them  up  to  me,"  said  Prank,  interrupt 
ing  the  merchant,  "  and  I  will  neither  ask  nor  accept  any  fur 
ther  favors  from  you,  Mr.  Mordant." 

The  merchant  was  an  old  and  wealthy  man,  an  influential 
member  of  society  ;  one  whom,  to  be  acquainted  with,  was  con 
sidered  to  stamp  the  respectability  of  the  happy  possessor  of - 
that  acquaintanceship.  Frank  Martin  was  a  mere  youth — a 
sailor  boy — who  had  to  fight  the  battle  of  life  unaided,  and  to 
win  his  way  upwards  stlp  by  step  by  his  own  exertions  ;  but 
the  moral  courage  bestowed  by  conscious  innocence  and  the 
cowardice  of  conscious  guilt  were  clearly  demonstrated  in  the 
course  of  this  brief  interview  ;: — the  gray-haired  merchant 
quailed  before  the  calm,  clear  blue  eye  of  the  youthful  sailor, 
and  without  saying  another  word,  he  withdrew  from  a  desk  the 
indenture  spoken  of,  cancelled  it,  and  handed  it  to  Prank. 
Then,  as  the  youth  was  about  to  leave  the  office,  he  would  have 
renewed  his  offers  of  assistance — 

"  I  am  sorry,71  he  said,  "  that  matters  have  happened  thus 

14 


314  THE  CABIN  BOY'S  STORY. 

unfortunately.     I  hope,  young  man,  you  will  have  the  discre- 
tion  to  keep  your  own  counsel,  and  I  shall " 

"  You  need  fear  nothing  from  me,  sir,"  replied  Frank,  again 
interrupting  the  merchant.  "  I  am  not  yet  fallen  so  low  as  to 
become  an  informer." 

Without  deigning  to  await  the  merchant's  response,  he 
turned  on  his  heel  and  quitted  the  office,  carelessly  crumpling 
the  cancelled  indenture  in  his  hand,  and  thrusting  it  in  his 
pocket. 

When  he  had  left,  Mr.  Mordant  gave  way  to  a  reverie,  in  which 
thoughts  of  the  most  painful  and  distracting  nature  intruded 
themselves.  He  felt  truly  repentant  of  the  course  he  had  for 
several  years  pursued,  and  by  the  means  of  which  he  had  very 
considerably  increased  his  wealth  ;  but  whether  the  repentance 
was  real,  or  whether  it  was  only  that  which  sooner  or  later  al 
ways  overtakes  the  doer  of  evil,  and  is  oftener  caused  by  regret 
at  the  failure  of  his  schemes,  and  by  the  dread  of  that  retribu 
tion  which  he  fears  awaits  him,  than  by  remorse  for  his  past 
conduct,  we  leave  to  the  reader  who  has  been  afforded  an  insight 
into  the  principles  which  actuated  the  merchant  in  his  under 
takings  and  speculations,  to  decide. 

Frank  Martin  resolved  to  call  upon  Captain  Seymour  that 
evening  ;  meanwhile  he  went  home  to  his  lodgings,  where  he 
found  a  letter  awaiting  him  from  his  brother,  acquainting  him 
of  the  arrival  of  Mr.  Deane  in  New  York — which  intelligence 
had  been  received  shortly  after  he  had  left  Boston,  and  request 
ing  him  to  call  upon  that  gentleman,  who  had  taken  rooms  at 
the  same  hotel  with  Seymour. 

"  I  donrt  know  this  Mr.  Deane,"  said  Frank  to  himself, 
.when  he  read  tl\e  letter  ;  "  but,  as  it  will  be  all  in  my  way 
when  I  call  at  the  Astor  House  to-night,  I  suppose  I  must 
make  myself  known  to  him.  I  wonder  if  Jessica,  the  young 
lady  William  thinks  so  much  of,  is  v^th  him.  If  I  thought  she 
were,  I  should  like  to  see  her.  Yes^ll  call  on  Mr.  Deane  be 
fore  I  see  Captain  Seymour  to-night. n 

Having  arrayed  himself  in  his  best,  in  the  hope  that  Jessica 
Deane  had  accompanied  her  father  to  New  York,  and  natu 
rally  wishing  to  make  as  favorable  an  impression  as  possible  in 
the  eyes  of  his  brother's  sweetheart,  Frank  presented  himself  at 
seven  o'clock  at  the  door  of  the  apartments  occupied  by  Mr. 
Deane  in  the  hotel.  He  was  kindly  welcomed  for  his  brother's 
sake,  and  as  he  had  anticipated,  Jessica  Deane  had  accompa 
nied  her  father  to  the  city. 


THE  CABIN  BOY'S  STORY.  315 

"  My  daughter,  Mr.  Martin,"  said  Mr.  Deane,  presenting 
the  young  seaman  to  the  beautiful  girl.  "  You,  have  no  doubt, 
heard  William  speak  of  her.  You  must  be  friends  with  Wil 
liam  Martin's  brother,  Jessie,"  (addressing  his  daughter) ;  and 
leading  her  to  the  youth,  he  placed  the  young  lady's  hand  in 
that  of  Frank. 

Jessica  blushed  and  smiled,  and  said  she  should  always  be 
happy  to  enrol  in  her  list  of  friends  any  relative  of  William 
Martin;  and  Frank,  as  he  felt  the  soft,  electric  touch,  and  saw 
the  kindling  blush  that  suffused  her  cheek,  and  marked  her  blue 
eyes,  downcast  with  modesty,  and  yet  beaming  with  delight, 
half  envied  his  brother's  good  fortune,  and  wondered  if  he,  rude 
sailor  as  he  was,  would  ever  meet  with  such  a  neat,  tidy,  little 
consort — willing  to  journey  side  by  side  with  him  across  the 
stormy  ocean  of  life. 

"  I  presume  your  brother  has  informed  you,  Mr.  Martin,  of 
the  interesting  circumstances  that  have  lately  transpired  rela 
tive  to  your  family  and  Mrs.  Donaldson  ?"  said  Mr.  Deane, 
after  some  preliminary  conversation  had  taken  place. 

"  He  has,  sir,"  replied  Frank,  "  and  I  need  scarcely  say  that 
I  hope  matters  will  turn  out  favorably  for  us  ;  but,  I  cannot 
stay  long  to-night.  I  will  see  you  again  before  I  start  for 
Camden.  I  have  to  call  upon  a  gentleman  who  is  putting  up 
at  this  hotel — one  Captain  Seymour,  under  whose  command  I 
once  sailed." 

"  Captain  Seymour — Seymour  !"  said  Mr.  Deane,  "  there  is 
a  person  of  that  name  connected  with  this  affair  between  Mrs. 
Donaldson  and  your  family.  He  will  be  the  residuary  legatee 
in  case  the  old  lady  should  die  without  making  a  will.  How 
ever,  there  are,  of  course,  many  persons  of  that  name.  Still,  I 
should  like  to  see  this  Captain  Seymour."  * 

'•  You  can  easily  do  that,  sir  ;  though,  perhaps,  it  would  not 
be  so  easy  a  matter  to  assure  yourself  of  his  identity  with  the 
person  in  question.  I  would  ask  you  to  step  up  to  his  room 
with  me,  but  it  is  better  that  I  should  first  see  him  alone." 

Wishing  Mr.  Deane  and  his  daughter  good  night,  Frank, 
having  procured  the  direction  and  the  number  of  the  apart 
ment,  from  a  waiter,  proceeded  to  Captain  Seymour's  room. 
He  knocked  at  the  door,  and  shortly  he  heard  the  well-known 
voice  of  his  late  commander,  utter  the  words — 

"  Come  in." 

Frank  entered  the  room.  Seymour  was  seated  at  the  table, 
writing  ;  and  before  him,  on  the  table,  lay  an  open  locket, 


316  THE  CABIN  BOY'S  STORY. 

containing  the  portrait  of  Zuleika  ;  he  raised  his  head  as  the 
young  man  entered,  and  looked  at  him  inquiringly,  not  imme 
diately  recognizing  him. 

"Do  you  not  know  me,  Captain  Seymour?"  said  Frank, 
"  my  name  is  Martin — Frank  Martin.  I  sailed  with  you  on 
board  the  Albatross." 

"  And  took  French  leave  of  me,  in  Aracati  Bay,  boy," 
exclaimed  Seymour,  rising  from  his  seat  and  frankly  extending 
his  hand  to  the  youth,  "  Well,  I  would  have  caught  you  if  I 
could  ;  but  you  managed  to  get  the  better  of  me.  It  was  as 
well.  You  have  heard,  I  presume,  that  the  Albatross  has 
been  captured  off  the  coast  of  Africa.  It  has  been  a  bad 
business  throughout ;  and  now,  I  have  resolved  to  abandon  it 
for  ever.  Let  by-gones  be  by-gones,  boy.  Come,  sit  you  down 
and  join  me  in  a  bottle  of  wine  ;  and  we'll  chat  of  old  times. 
Perhaps,  I  did  not  use  you  well  as  regards  that  last  little 
affair ;  but  my  passions  were  uppermost  and  I  scarcely  knew 
what  I  did.  "  Come,  sit  down,"  he  repeated,  "  the  sight  of 
an  old  shipmate  refreshes  me.  Tolcroft  is  here;  but  the  beast 
is  half  crazy  with  delirium  tremens,  and  I  have  had  to  send 
him  to  the  hospital." 

The  young  sailor  was  utterly  thrown  off  his  guard  by  the 
frank,  open  manner  of  his  former  captain.  He  had  entered 
the  room  expecting  to  find  Seymour  alarmed  at  seeing  him  ; 
and  had  anticipated  angry  words  and  recriminations  on  both 
sides  ;  but  the  captain  was  confident  in  his  own  power  to  sway 
men  to  his  will,  and  in  this  instance  he  had  not  exerted  it  in 
vain.  Frank  took  the  extended  hand,  accepted  Seymour's 
invitation,  and  in  the  course  of  a  quarter  of  an  hour,  the  two 
sailors,  different  as  were  their  relative  positions  and  circum 
stances,  were  chatting  merrily  over  the  incidents  of  former 
days,  and  calling  up  old  reminiscences  with  all  the  gusto  of 
those  aged  veterans  who  are  so  fond  of  sailing  their  voyages 
and  fighting  their  battles  over  again,  in  the  snug  shelter  of  the 
chimney  corner. 

"  And  what  do  you  intend  doing  with  yourself  now  ?"  asked 
Seymour,  after  a  pause  in  the  conversation. 

"  I  have  not  thought  of  anything  yet.  I  shall  go  to  sea 
again,  I  suppose  ;  but  not  in  one  of  Mr.  Mordant's  ships.  I 
have  had  enough  of  them.  Meanwhile,  I  am  going  home  to 
see  my  mother  and  sister.  By-the-by,"  he  continued,  careless 
ly,  for  the  wine  he  had  ^Irunk  had  made  him  foolishly  commu 
nicative,  "  a  streak  of  good  fortune,  as  it  may  turn  out,  ha> 


THE    CABIN    BOY'S    STORY.  317 

befallen  us  since  I  have  been  absent  from  home.  An  old  lady 
— an  Englishwoman,  I  fancy — has  discovered  that  my  mother 
is  a  relation  of  hers,  and  that  my  sister  is  her  namesake,  and 
she  is  going  to  leave  Sarah  her  property.  Her  name  is 
Donaldson.  My  mother's  name  was  Donaldson  before " 

"  Donaldson  !  an  Englishwoman  !"  exclaimed  Seymour. 
"  Your  mother's  name  was  Donaldson  before  she  was  married, 
Frank  ?  What  part  of  England  did  she  come  from  ?" 

"  I  think  I  have  heard  her  say  from  Somersetshire,"  replied 
Frank. 

"  The  Donaldsons  of  Somersetshire  !  Good  heavens  !  it 
must  be  the  same  family.  Did  you  ever  hear  your  mother 
mention  the  name  of  Seymour  ?" 

"  Not  that  I  know  of/'  said  Frank  ;  "but  that  reminds  me 
— Mr.  Deane,  the  lawyer,  who  is  investigating  this  matter,  has 
said  something  about  a  person  of  the  name  of  Seymour,  who  is 
concerned  in  the  matter.  That  is,  who  will  be  the  heir  to  the 
old  lady's  property  provided  she  dies  without  making  a  will 
(which  I  pray  to  God  she  won't  do)  or  something  of  that  sort. 
Mr.  Deane  and  I  were  talking  about  it  just  now." 

"  Talking  about  it  just  now,  boy  ?     Is  Mr.  Deane  here  ?" 

"  He  occupies  a  room  below,  and  when  I  mentioned  your 
name  he  said  he  should  like  to  see  you." 

"  I  will  go  and  see  him  at  once — nay,  stay — go  you  to  him, 
Frank,  and  make  Captain  Seymour's  compliments  and  ask  Mr. 
Deane  if  he  can  make  it  convenient  to  come  up  to  my  room — 
with  you,  Frank,  mind,  with  you." 

"  What's  in  the  wind  now  ?"  thought  Frank,  as  he  proceed 
ed  to  deliver  the  message.  "  Wonders  will  never  cease." 

In  the  course  of  a  few  minutes  the  young  man  returned  with 
Mr.  Deane,  to  whom  he  introduced  Capt.  Seymour. 

"  I  have  requested  the  favor  of  your  company,  sir,"  said 
Seymour,  entering  at  once  into  the  subject,  "  to  ask  you  some 
questions  relative  to  the  business  you  have,  I  understand,  on 
hand,  in  which  my  young  friend  here  is  interested.  He  says 
that  you  have  spoken  of  a  person  named  Seymour,  in  connec 
tion  with  one  Mrs.  Donaldson,  who  is,  or  professes  to  be,  a 
relative  of  this  young  man's  mother.  Do  you  know  the  degree 
of  relationship,  if  any,  that  exists  between  this  Mr.  Seymour 
and  Mrs.  Donaldson  ?" 

"  I  do  not  know  that  I  am  justified  in  stating  all  that  Mrs. 
Donaldson  has  related  to  me  in  confidence,"  replied  Mr.  Deane, 
"  but  I  presume,  from  your  asking  the  question,  that  you  ima- 


318  THE  CABIN  BOYS  STORY. 

gine  yourself  to  be  the  person  alluded  to  under  the  name  of 
Seymour.  I  will  state  that  Colonel,  the  Hon.  Alfred  Seymour, 
I  believe,  some  time  about  the  commencement  of  the  present 
century — I  do  not  recollect  the  exact  date — married  a  Miss 
Mary  Donaldson,  the  eldest  daughter  of  one  James  Donaldson, 
of  Rose  Abbey,  in  the  County  of  Somerset,  England — I  am 
sorry  to  add,  that  from  all  I  can  learn,  the  colonel  sadly 
neglected  the  lady,  who  died  of  a  broken  heart,  through  her 
husband's  conduct,  leaving  issue  by  the  colonel,  one  son  named 
Alfred,  who  was  brought  by  his  father,  while  still  a  lad,  to 
America.  He  married,  when  he  arrived  at  man's  estate,  a  young 
French  lady,  then  residing  with  her  guardian  in  Louisiana,  and 
died  a  few  years  after  his  marriage,  leaving  his  widow  with  one 
only  child.  What  became  of  this  boy,  whether  he  be  still 
living  or  not,  I  cannot  say ;  but  it  is  this  son  of  Alfred  Sey 
mour  to  whom  Mrs.  Donaldson  alludes.  It  was  her  eldest 
sister  who  married  Colonel  Seymour.'' 

"  What  relationship  does  Mrs.  Donaldson  bear  to  Mrs.  Martin, 
the  mother  of  our  young  friend  here  ?  Pardon  me  for  being  so 
curious,  but  I  am  singularly  interested  in  this  matter." 

"  Mrs.  Martin  is  the  niece  of  Mrs.  Sarah  Donaldson,  and,  I 
believe,  her  only  living  relative,  except  this  grand-nephew, 
Seymour,  now  alive.  On  the  death  of  Mr  Donaldson,  of  Rose 
Abbey,  he  bequeathed  his  property  to  his  second  daughter, 
Sarah,  the  elder  daughter,  Mary,  having  died  before  her  father, 
who  refused  to  leave  a  single  shilling  to  his  graceless  son-in- 
law,  who,  by  the  way,  from  all  I  can  learn,  did  not  need  the 
money,  being  both  wealthy  and  highly  connected.  Mrs.  Don 
aldson  wishes  to  leave  her  fortune  to  her  niece  ;  but  failing  to 
establish  this  claim,  this  young  man,  Seymour,  should  he  ever 
turn  up,  would  be  the  heir." 

"  Frank,  my  lad,"  said  Seymour,  taking  the  astonished  youth 
by  the  hand,  and  shaking  it  heartily,  "  I  grant  it  is  a  sort  of 
Scotch  relationship,  although  it  does  not  go  back  quite  to  the 
thirty-second  degree.  But  as  your  great  aunt  and  my  great 
aunt  are  both  one  and  the  same  person — viz.,  this  Mrs.  Sarah 
Donaldson  this  gentleman  speaks  of— for  I  am  the  grandson  of 
Colonel  Alfred  Seymour — we  must  be  cousins  in  some  sort  of 
way,  boy.  I  don't  say  that  you  have  any  reason  to  feel  proud 
of  your  newly-discovered  relative  " — and  he  laughed  a  hollow 
laugh — "but  at  all  events,  if  I  can  furnish  a  link  in  the  chain 
of  identity,  I  will  do  so  with  pleasure.  It's  not  often  I  have 
the  chance  to  do  good  service,  and  still  seldomer  that  I  feel 


TIIF:  cAUiN   BOYS  STORY. 

Inclined" — and  he  again  laughed  that  short,  hollow  laugh — 
"  but  I  owe  you  a  good  turn,  as  a  set-off  against  a  past  offence, 
and  you  shall  have  the  benefit  of  it.  As  to  my  being  heir  to 
the  property,  that's  all  moonshine.  I  have  money  enough,  if 
that  will  bring  peace  and  happiness  ;  besides,  did  not  old  Mr. 
Donaldson  cut  off  his  son-in-law,  my  graceless  grand-daddy, 
with  a  shilling  ?  But  come,  Frank,  you  have  a  brother  and  a 
sister  and  a  mother  living ;  they  are  all  relatives  of  mine, 
must  see  them.  And  Mr.  Deanc,"  addressing  the  lawyer,  "I 
must  have  the  pleasure  of  an  introduction,  through  you,  to  this 
venerable  old  grand-aunt  of  mine,  of  whom  you  speak." 

Frank  was  so  amazed  at  what  he  had  heard — his  interview 
with  Seymour  had  been  productive  of  fruit  so  entirely  different 
from  what  he  had  anticipated— that  he  could  not  reply  ;  but 
Mr.  Deane,  who  was  delighted  at  the  turn  matters  had  taken, 
shook  Captain.  Seymour  by  the  hand,  and  asked  him  to  dine 
with  him  on  the  following  day. 

"And,  my  dear  sir,"  he  added,  "if  you  think  of  going  to 
Camden  with  Master  Frank,  and  visiting  your  newly-discovered 
relatives,  we  will  travel  all  together  as  far  as  Augusta,  where 
1  will  introduce  you  to  Mrs.  Donaldson,  who,  perhaps,  may  be 
induced  to  accompany  you  to  Camden,  when  she  finds  that  her 
object  is  so  satisfactorily  attained.  I  need  not  say  that  I  am 
gratified  at  the  turn  matters  have  taken.  The  main  cause  of 
my  visiting  New  York  was  to  institute  inquiries  with  regard  to 
this  business,  and  I  care  not  how  soon  I  return  home." 

Seymour  accepted  the  invitation,  adding,  "  I  do  feel  inclined 
to  visit  Caniden,  but  my  visit  must  of  necessity  be  short;  for 
as  soon  as  I  have  satisfactorily  arranged  certain  business  I  have 
on  hand,  I  am  going  to  Europe,  whence,  in  all  probability,  I 
may  never  return.  Still,  I  will  see  these  relatives  of  mine  be 
fore  I  go." 

On  the  following  day  Seymour  and  Frank  dined  in  Mr. 
Deane's  room,  and  the  former  was  introduced  to  Jessica. 
During  the  progress  of  the  meal,  his  attention  seemed  to  be 
strangely  fixed  upon  the  young  lady,  so  much  so,  indeed,  that 
he  replied  in  quite  an  absent  manner  to  various  remarks  that 
fell  from  the  lips  of  her  father.  At  length  he  could  no  longer 
/ontrol  his  curiosity. 

"  I  am  afraid  I  shall  appear  rude,"  he  said;  "but  may  I  ask 
you,  Miss  Deane,  to  allow  me  to  examine  that  ring  you  wear 
on  your  finger.  I  have  seen  but  one  that  resembled  it ;  and 
there  are  singular  circumstances  connected  with  its  history." 


320  THE  CABIN  BOY'S  STORY. 

The  young  lady  drew  the  ring  from  her  finger,  and  placed  it 
in  Seymour's  hand.  He  examined  it  closely,  and,  apparently 
in  a  careless  manner,  glanced  at  the  inside.  There  was  the 
letter  J  engraved  in  the  old  Roman  character.  Without  mak 
ing  any  remark,  he  returned  it  to  the  young  lady;  but  various 
strange  thoughts  passed  through  his  mind.  This  little  episode 
was  not  observed  by  Mr.  Deane  nor  by  Frank,  who  were  both 
deeply  engaged  in  conversation  at  the  time,  or  possibly  some 
explanation  might  have  been  vouchsafed  to  Seymour.  As  it 
was,  his  fancy  was  left  to  its  own  imaginings. 

The  next  day  the  party  set  out  for  Augusta,  and  Seymour 
was  introduced  to  Mrs.  Donaldson ;  and,  as  Mr.  Deane  had 
anticipated,  the  lady  gladly  consented  to  join  Seymour  and 
Frank  in  their  anticipated  journey  to  Camden. 

"It  is  singular  about  that  ring,"  thought  Seymour,  as  he 
was  undressing  himself  that  night  in  his  chamber  in  Mr. 
Deane's  house  at  Augusta.  "  I  must  see  Mrs.  Miller  on  my 
return  to  New  York,  and  ascertain  whether  she  has  heard  any 
thing  of  poor  Jane.  I  could  swear  that  the  ring  Miss  Jessica 
Deane  wears  is  the  one  I  presented  to  Jane  Miller.  Let  me 
see — this  is  Wednesday — to-morrow  night  I  shall  be  at  Cam- 
den.  I  will  remain  there  till  Saturday,  and  be  back  in  New 
York  by  Tuesday  or  Wednesday  next,  at  the  latest.  By  the 
middle  of  the  ensuing  week  I  can  arrange  all  my  affairs — and 
then  for  the  East  and  my  Zuleika." 


CHAPTER  XXXI. 

Marca  and  Zoe  relate  the  Events  which  occurred  during  their  long 
Separation  from  each  other — Seymour's  Return  to  Zuleika's  Isle. 

RETURN  we  to  the  JEgean  Sea  and  Zuleika's  Isle.  Two 
weary  months  have  passed  away  since  the  events  occurred 
which  we  have  recorded  in  a  former  chapter  relative  to  the 
birth  of  Zuleika's  child.  Two  weary  months — and  yet  not  al 
together  weary,  for  every  day  brought  nearer  the  long-hoped- 
for  reunion  of  Zuleika  and  her  husband — this  time  all  the  more 
anxiously,  eagerly  longed  for,  because  of  the  desire  the  young 
mother  possessed  to  present  to  her  husband  the  first-born 
pledge  of  their  mutual  love  ;  not  altogether  weary,  although 
each  day  and  each  hour  was  counted  ;  for  a  novel  occupation 


THE    CABIN    BOY'S    STORY.  321 

now  engrossed  Zuleika's  formerly  idle  moments,  and  divided  her 
thoughts,  and  hopes,  and  fears.  She  had  a  babe  on  whom  to 
bestow  the  words  of  affection  that  would  otherwise  have  been 
breathed  to  the  heedless  winds,  and  the  love  and  attendance 
that  babe  required  at  her  hands  made  the  hours  pass  away 
more  swiftly  than  if,  as  formerly,  her  books  and  her  music  had 
been  her  sole  amusements.  Still,  although,  day  by  day,  the 
hours  sped  rapidly  enough  away,  the  time  that  had  passed  by 
seemed  long,  and  long  it  seemed  to  look  forward,  even  beyond 
the  short  space  which  must  yet  elapse  ere  she  could  hope  that 
every  hour  would  bring  tidings  of  the  absent  one. 

Zuleika  had  been  brought  very  low  during  her  confinement, 
and  the  anxiety  she  had  felt  had  pressed  severely  upon  her, 
and  aided  in  retarding  her  recovery*  She  was  not  really  ill, 
and  yet  the  bloom  had  fled  from  her  cheeks,  and  the  roundness 
had  faded  from  her  form.  Still  she  looked  all  the  more  lovely; 
she  had  lost  nothing  of  her  native  grace,  her  womanly  beauty, 
but  she  had  added  to  her  charms  an  etherialness,  a  spirituality, 
which  made  her  appear  too  pure,  too  fair,  too  much  of  an  an 
gel,  to  linger  long  upon  earth.  And  Jane  Miller,  as  she  gazed 
upon  her  fragile  form,  and  watched  the  emotions  of  her  pallid, 
speaking  countenance,  half  feared  that  she  was  not  long  to  re 
main  an  inhabitant  of  this  world  ;  and  while  she  feared,  could 
not  dispossess  herself  of  the  belief  that  even  like  her  namesake 
— Selim's  betrothed  bride — it  were  well  if  she  died  ere  her 
trust  in  Seymour's  honor  and  truth  were  broken — ere,  per 
chance,  her  own  purity  and  innocence  were  lost.  She  then 
could  have  whispered — 


•"  Peace  to  her  early  grave, 


Ah !  happy  !  but  of  life  to  lose  the  worst. 
******* 

Thrice  happy !  ne'er  to  feel  nor  fear  the  force 
Of  absence,  shame,  pride,  hate,  revenge,  remorse ! 
And,  oh  !  that  pang,  where  more  than  madness  lies, 
The  worm  that  will  not  sleep  and  never  dies, 
Thought  of  the  gloomy  day,  and  ghastly  night 
That  dreads  the  darkness,  and  yet  loathes  the  light." 

And  still  she  hoped  that  fate  might  yet  have  a  happy  earthly 
future  in  store  for  her — that  she  might  recover  her  wonted 
health  and  elasticity  of  spirit,  when  once  Seymour  returned, 
and  the  corroding  anxiety  that  was  wearing  her  away  was  re 
moved,  and  she  hoped  that  Seymour  himself  might  reform, 
and,  resolving  never  again  to  leave  his  lovely  bride,  might 

14* 


322          THE  CABIN  BOY'S  STORY. 

spend  the  latter  portion  of  his  life  in  a  manner  better  calculated 
to  win  him  peace,  and  content,  and  happiness,  than  that  which 
had  characterized  his  earlier  career.  And  others,  too,  looked 
with  eyes  of  love  and  pity  upon  the  gentle  Zuleika;  the  Greek 
maidens,  as  they  passed  by,  would  cease  their  light,  joyous 
songs ;  and  advancing  near  to  her,  as  she  sat  on  a  rustic  seat 
that  had  been  constructed  upon  the  beach,  with  the  baby  in 
her  lap,  gazing  thoughtfully  upon  the  sea,  far,  far  into  the  dis 
tance,  as  though  she  sought  to  pierce  the  horizon  and  descry 
her  husband's  bark,  long  ere  it  drew  near  the  shore,  would  with 
gentle,  pitying  smiles,  admire  the  infant's  beauty,  and  bid 
the  fair  youthful  mother  be  of  good  cheer,  for  the  wind  was 
fair,  and  perhaps  her  lord  would  arrive  on  the  morrow,  and 
then  they  would  join  their  own  favored  lovers,  and  whisper  to 
them  their  hopes  and  fears.  It  was  a  great  incentive  to  love- 
making  amongst  the  youths  and  maidens  of  Zuleika's  Isle,  this 
sympathy  that  all  felt,  th«  aged  as  well  as  the  young,  towards 
its  fair  and  gentle  mistress.  All  but  two  :  those  two  were 
Marca  and  Zoe.  They  did  not  openly  dare  to  wish  her  ill — 
they  did  not  even  secretly  seek  to  do  her  harm;  yet  any  one 
who  scanned  the  expression  of  their  features  when  they  gazed 
upon  the  young  mother  and  her  infant,  would  readily  have 
discerned  the  secret  hatred  they  bore  towards  them  both. 

Zoe  had  departed  from  the  island  shortly  after  the  conversa 
tion  had  taken  place  between  her  and  Marca,  on  the  morning 
of  the  baby's  birth.  The  reader  will  recollect  that  on  that 
occasion  they  had  been  interrupted  in  their  conversation  on 
the  sea-shore  by  a  party  of  pleasure-seekers  that  chance  had 
brought  near  the  beach.  They  had  separated  just  as  Zoe  had 
promised  to  relate  her  son's  history,  and  had  expressed  a  desire 
to  hear  that  of  Marca  during  the  long  period  they  had  been 
separated.  Zoe  had  only  returned  a  few  hours,  when  she  and 
her  mother  again  met,  on  the  very  spot  where  they  had  stood 
on  the  occasion  of  the  conversation  already  recorded. 

"  How  fares  Yicenzo's  daughter  and  child  ?"  asked  Zoe  of 
the  aged  sibyl,  after  they  had  met  and  exchanged  a  few  words 
of  greeting. 

"  The  flower  fades,  and  the  bud  will  be  blighted  ere  the 
blossom  unfolds,"  replied  Marca. 

"  You  have  tended  her  in  her  sickness  ?"  replied  Zoe,  inquir 
ingly,  and  casting  a  glance  of  strange  meaning  towards  her 
mother. 

"No;  I  know  what  you  would  infer,  Zoe,"  answered  Marca; 


THE  CABIN  BOYS  STORY.  2 

"but  no;  I  have  sought  to  do  no  evil  to  either,  but  the  with 
ering  curse  that  I  bestowed  upon  the  betrayer  and  murderer 
of  my  husband  will  light  upon  all  his  descendants,  until  every 
one  in  whose  veins  runs  the  blood  of  Yicenzo  shall  have  per 
ished.  I  would  have  spared  this  child  ;  but  the  decree  has 
gone  forth — I  cannot  stay  the  operations  of  the  curse  I  have 
evoked." 

"  Say  rather,"  sneered  Zoe,  "  that  the  powers  of  heaven  and 
hell  have  decreed  vengeance  on  the  hated  despoiler — even  to 
his  children's  children.  Your  feeble  curse  can  do  little  harm, 
mother.  I  take  braver  and  surer  means  to  work  out  my  ven 
geance.  How  long  would  it  have  taken  to  work  out  the  death 
of  Leila — the  destruction  of  Yicenzo — if  your  foolish  curse  had 
been  the  only  vengeance  employed  ?" 

Marca  was  about  to  retort  angrily,  for  she  was  vain  of  the 
credit  she  had  established  of  possessing  the  power  of  dispensing 
evil  to  all  who  fell  under  her  ban;  but  her  reply  was  cut  short 
by  Zoe,  who  said,  curtly — 

•'It  is  enough,  mother;  it  is  enough.  Make  the  simple 
islanders  believe  in  and  dread  your  power  as  long  as  you  may; 
but  speak  not  of  it  to  me.  Listen,  and  I  will  relate  to  you 
my  sou's  history.  He  yet  lives  to  aid  me  in  my  plans  of  veng- 
ance  against  his  hated  father's  race. 

"  Yicenzo,  when  first  he  took  me,  against  my  will,  to  be  the 
favorite  bride  and  mistress  of  his  harem — lavished  freely  upon 
me  the  wealth  that  he  had  hoarded  during  his  successful  forays 
upon  the  Grecian  and  Turkish  coasts,  and  I,  silly  child  that  I 
was,  almost  learned  to  love  him,  though  I  always  felt  a  fear 
creep  over  me  when  I  was  summoned  to  his  apartment — and 
fear  is  a  sad  foe  to  love.  Two  years  after  I  left  my  native 
mountains,  I  bore  Yicenzo  a  son,  whom  he  called  Abdallah, 
and  whom  I  fondly  hoped  would  live  to  succeed  his  father  as 
prince  and  chieftain  of  these  isles,  and  lord  of  the  countless 
galleys  which  in  former  clays  swept  these  seas,  and  claimed 
tribute  from  every  mariner  who  was  bold  enough  to  plow  their 
waters  with  his  keel.  But  it  was  a  vain  and  foolish  dream 
that  of  mine.  Yicenzo  planned  a  desperate  attack  upon 
Larissa,  where  Ismael  Pasha  had  collected  immense  treasure. 
He  succeeded,  and  his  galleys  returned  laden  with  spoil;  and 
amongst  that  spoil  was  a  young  Circassian,  whom  Ismael  had 
but  a"  short  time  before  purchased  of  a  mountain  chief,  who 
said  she  was  his  child.  Her  beauty  fired  the  heart  of  Vicenzo; 
he  u-ave  himself  up  to  pleasure,  and  allowed  the  rich  treasure 


324  THE    CABIN    BOY'S    STORY. 

he  had  captured  to  be  shared  amongst  his  followers,  reserving 
only  to  himself  that  which  he  prized  beyond  all,  the  fair  Leila 
—the  mother  of  Bedita. 

"  From  that  day  I  was  reduced  from  the  mistress  of  Vic- 
enzo's  harem — from  the  '  light  of  his  life/  as  he  was  accustomed 
to  style  me,  to  the  veriest  slave  that  ever  pandered  to  the 
vile  whims  of  a  renegade  pirate  chief.  My  boy  was  discarded — 
disowned.  The  love  Vicenzo  had  appeared  to  bear  toward  me 
was  turned  to  hatred.  I  know  not  whether  Leila  exerted  her 
influence  to  cause  this.  I  do  not  think  she  did.  She  was  a 
mere  dainty  toy — too  insipid  either  to  love  or  to  hate.  But  it 
was  through  her  that  this  evil  befel  me,  and  I  swore  revenge 
upon  her.  How  I  succeeded  you  already  know. 

"But  with  regard  to  my  son  Abdallah,  I  breathed  words  of 
vengeance  into  his  young  ear.  I  taught  him  to  hate  his  father; 
and  as  he  grew  up,  the  sweetest  music  to  my  ears  was  his 
expressions  of  demoniac  vengance.  A  young  Frank,  one  from 
the  far  distant  land  of  the  West,  came  to  our  shores;  he  was 
no  other  than  the  present  husband  of  Zuleika.  I  knew  him  as 
the  youth  who  purchased  Bedita  of  me  in  the  market  place  at 
Stamboul.  He  joined  the  pirate  horde  of  which  Abdallah  was 
the  leader.  He  was  brave  to  rashness.  I  told  my  son  that 
he  had  purchased  Bedita,  and,  as  I  had  heard,  intended  to 
make  her  his  bride.  To  make  my  vengeance  complete,  I  re 
solved  that  the  betrothed  husband  of  the  daughter  should  take 
the  life  of  the  father.  Enough  :  during  an  attack  led  by  Ab 
dallah  upon  the  stronghold  of  Vicenzo,  on  the  Island  of  Scio, 
he  fell — cleft  to  the  shoulder  by  the  sabre  of  the  Frank  pirate. 
Bedita's  husband  has  his  hands  dyed  with  the  blood  of  her 
father ! 

"  I  lost  sight  of  the  Frank  for  many  years — but  at  last  he 
returned  bringing  with  him  as  his  bride  the  young  Bedita. 
He  called  her  Zuleika.  He  loves  her;  that  is  sufficient  to 
arouse  in  me  fresh  schemes  of  vengeance.  Zuleika  and  her 
babe  may  yet  be  spared;  but  she  shall  suffer  sorrow  so  deep 
that  she  shall  wish  for  death,  and  a  heavy  doom  shall  fall  on 
him  who  dares  to  love  a  daughter  of  Vicenzo. 

"  My  son  is  now  on  the  Hellespont;  and  this  Frank  shall 
find  that  he  still  lives,  and  find  it  to  his  cost — though,  as  yet, 
I  wait  for  the  turn  of  circumstances  to  mature  my  schemes. 
Now,  mother,  let  me  hear  your  history  during  the  many  long 
years  you  were  absent — as  I  thought  dead." 

"  My  tale  is  brief,"  replied  Marea.     "  You  know,  daughter 


THE    CABIN    BOY'S    STORY.  325 

of  mine,  that  my  husband  once  ruled  over  the  islands  which 
afterwards  Yicenzo  claimed  as  his  own ;  but  you  knew  not  that 
lie  was  your  uncle.  Arnault,  my  husband,  was  the  elder 
brother  of  Vicenzo— the  lineal  descendant  of  a  race  of  Greek 
warriors.  He  rescued  Yicenzo,  his  younger  brother,  from  the 
Turks  of  Salonica,  and,  bringing  him  to  Scio,  placed  him  next 
to  .himself  in  command;  but  Vicenzo  saw  me — I  was  young 
and  handsome  then — -Time,  arid  Grief,  and  Revenge,  have 
made  me  what  I  am  now.  Arnault  was  absent  with  his  gal 
leys,  and  Vicenzo,  who  was  left  in  command  of  the  fortress, 
took  advantage  of  Arnault's  absence  to  work  his  base  will  on 
rne.  I  resisted;  but  of  what  avail  was  the  resistance  of  a 
weak  woman.  Vicenzo  gained  his  end,  and  then  threatened 
my  life  if  I  informed  my  husband.  Nay,  he  threatened  your 
life — you  were  then  a  mere  child — -if  I  betrayed  him  to  his 
brother.  Fears  for  you,  not  for  myself,  kept  me  silent. 

"  Years  passed  away,  and  Vicenzo  began  to  envy  his  bro 
ther  the  dominion  over  the  isles  of  which  he  was  the  sovereign 
ruler;  and,  on  condition  that  he  should  remain  in  possession 
of  the  fortress  of  Scio,  he  betrayed  Arnault  to  the  Turk.  My 
husband  was  seized  and  brutally  tortured  in  my  presence.  He 
died  beneath  the  torture,  and  then  I  was  compelled  to  give  my 
forced  consent  to  Vicenzo's  marriage  with  you.  You  were  led 
to  his  harem;  you  know  the  rest.  I  was  banished,  sold  into 
slavery,  and  for  years  I  pined  beneath  its  horrors ;  but  I  at 
length  escaped,  and,  unknown  to  you,  I  aided  in  spreading 
disaffection  amongst  the  enemies  of  Vicenzo.  I  have  lived  to 
see  him  slain;  to  see  his  family  scattered.  One  daughter — the 
innocent  bride  of  the  Frank — alone  remains.  Zoo,  I  am  grow 
ing  aged.  Our  vengeance  has  been  deep  and  sure.  Let  us 
snare  Zuleika  ?" 

"  Her  life!  Yes  :  I  will  not  take  her  life;  but  she  shall  feel 
the  bitterness  of  living-death,"  exclaimed  Zoe,  "it  is  useless  to 
ask  further  mercy  at  my  hands  than  this.  But  away;  she 
dreads  me,  and  I  see  her  approaching.  We  must  not  be  seen 
together." 

And  the  mother  and  daughter  parted.  Zuleika,  accompanied 
by  Jane  Miller,  approached  the  beach ;  and  the  former  seated 
herself  upon  her  accustomed  seat  and  gazed  with  her  earnest, 
thoughtful  gaze,  into  the  deep,  blue  horizon. 

"  You  feel  stronger,  to-day,  dear  Zuleika,"  said  Jane  Miller, 
"do  you  not  ?  Your  color  is  heightened  and  you  look  more 
like  the  Zuleika  of  our  early  acquaintance  again." 


326  THE.  CABIN    BOY'S    STORY. 

"Yes,  I  am  better,"  replied  Zuleika,  "  every  day  that  brings 
the  hour  nearer  when  I  may  expect  George  to  return,  gives  me 
renewed  hope;  and  I  feel  the  blood  course  more  freely  through 
my  veins.  But  still  I  do  not  sleep  well  at  night;  and  I  dream 
strange,  mournful  dreams.  Jane,  you  once  loved  George;  so 
you  yourself  told  me.  How  could  you  bear  to  live,  when  once 
you  knew  he  did  not  love  you  ?" 

"  Why  do  you  ask  ?"  said  Jane,  who  was  as  much  surprised 
at  the  tone  in  which  the  question  was  asked,  as  at  its  purport. 

"  Only,  because,  if  George  should  ever  cease  to  love  me — • 
should  he  even  bestow  a  portion  of  his  love  upon,  another — I 
should  wish  to  die." 

"  But  you  forget  that  Captain  Seymour  never  knew  of— 
never,  therefore,  could  reciprocate  my  love,"  replied  Jane. 
"  Had  he  loved  me,  as  he  loves  you,  and  had  that  love  faded 
away  or  been  transferred  to  another,  the  case  would  have  been 
different," 

"  George  never  will  forsake  me,  now ;  now  I  have  a  babe  to 
cement  our  union,"  said  Zuleika,  thoughtfully,  as  though  speak 
ing  to  herself,  "  but,  I  wish  he  were  here;  for  I  have  strange, 
fearful  dreams,  and  we  islanders  are  a  little  prone  to  supersti 
tion,"  she  added,  smiling  a  forced  smile,  which  ill-concealed  the 
uneasiness  whicli  rankled  beneath. 

"  Do  not  give  way  to  these  feelings  of  despondency,  dear 
Zuleika,"  replied  Jane,  "I  trust  a  long  future  of  happiness 
awaits  you." 

"And  when  George  comes  back,  you  will  leave  me, 
Jane  ?" 

"  Yes:  Seymour  will  probably  recognize  me,  now  I  have  lain 
aside  my  disguise,  and  allowed  my  hair  to  grow  long.  If  not, 
I  shall  tell  my  story  and  trust  to  his  generosity  to  procure  my 
return  to  my  home.  I  have  been  very  foolish,  Zuleika,  and  I 
have  suffered  for  my  folly;  probably  shame  and  disgrace  await 
me  on  my  return;  but  I  have  brought  it  on  myself,  and  must 
bear  the  burden." 

"Disgrace  await  you!"  exclaimed  Zuleika.  "  Nay,  Jane — 
your  mother  and  friends  will  be  too  happy  to  have  you  restored 
to  them  again — and  perhaps — when  George  lives  always  with 
me,  and  I  accompany  him  wherever  he  goes — he  may  take  me 
to  America,  and  I  may  visit  you  at  your  own  home.  Will  not 
that  be  delightful  ?  How  gaily  we  shall  tell  over  our  old 
adventures." 

"Poor,  simple  child!"  thought  Jane  Miller — though  she  did 


THE    CABIN    BOY  S    STORY. 

not  reply,  "  how  little  you  know  of  the  ways  of  the  world. 
May  you  always  remain  as  innocent  and  unsuspecting." 

Several  weeks  passed  away,  and  every  evening  Zuleika,  accom 
panied  by  Jane  Miller,  visited  the  beach,  and  sat  watching  the 
broad  expanse  of  water,  and  as  the  day  of  Seymour's  expected 
arrival  drew  nigh,  fancying  that  every  strange  prow  that 
loomed  through  the  evening  haze,  might  be  that  of  the  return 
ing  wanderer.  Often  expectation  grew  into  fancied  certainty, 
and  as  often  relapsed  into  sad  disappointment,  as  vessel  after 
vessel  flitted  by,  like  shadows,  bound  to  some  port  or  other 
amongst  the  numerous  islands.  But,  one  evening,  just  as  the 
two  young  women  were  about  to  enter  their  cottage  for  the 
night — a  large  felucca  was  seen  standing  directly  towards  them. 
She  was  still  a  long  way  distant;  but  some  strange  instinct 
seemed  to  tell  Zuleika  that  that  felucca  had  on  board  her  long 
expected  husband.  In  vain  Jane  Miller,  fearful  of  disappoint 
ment,  endeavored  to  restrain  her  excitement. 

"  No — no—,"  she  cried,  "that  is  he — that  is  George 
returned  at  last.  I  am  sure  that  it  is  he." 

A  white  flag,  the  well-known  signal,  was  shortly  seen  float 
ing  from  the  end  of  the  gaff  topsail  boom.  And  Jane  herself 
was  satisfied  at  last,  that  Seymour  had  indeed  arrived. 

The  felucca  gracefully  "  rounded  to  "  a  short  distance  from 
the  shore,  and  a  small  boat  was  lowered  from  her  stern,  into 
which  a  tall  figure  was  seen  to  descend,  which  both  Zuleika 
and  Jane  recognized  as  that  of  Seymour.  A  few  vigorous 
strokes  brought  the  boat  to  the  landing-place- — and  Seymour 
sprung  to  the  strand.  In  another  instant  Zuleika  was  locked 
in  her  husband's  embrace. 

"George — dear  George — my  husband — our  child,  George!" 
She  wildly  gasped — and  then  her  feelings  overpowered  her  and 
she  sank  fainting  into  Seymour's  arms,  her  head  resting  upon 
his  bosom. 

And  tenderly  as  a  mother  would  bear  a  new  born  babe, 
Seymour  bore  the  fainting  girl  towards  the  cottage. 


328 


CHAPTER    XXXII. 

Which  treats  of  Domestic  Matters — Sarah  Mordant  finds  she  has  made  a 
bad  bargain — Mr.  Harvey  displays  his  cunning,  with  advantage  to  him 
self. 

WE  beg  the  reader  to  follow  us,  in  imagination,  into  the  in 
terior  of  one  of  the  finest  mansions  in Place,  New  York. 

Seated  upon  a  sofa  in  a  spacious  parlor  magnificently  furnished 
with  all  the  appliances  that  wealth  and  refinement  are  able  to 
procure,  are  two  ladies,  one  considerably  advanced  in  years  • 
but  so  elegantly  attired  and  so  well  preserved,  that  the  rava 
ges  of  time  are  scarcely  perceptible  on  her  still  smooth  cheek 
and  un wrinkled  brow.  The  other,  still  a  mere  girl,  is  richly 
but  more  simply  attired  than  her  companion.  Both  are  en 
gaged  in  earnest  conversation,  and  notwithstanding  the  rich 
heavy  drapery  of  the  curtains  obscures  the  light  that  would 
otherwise  stream  in  through  the  windows,  and  gives  the  room 
a  sombre  aspect,  still  increased  by  the  heavy,  rich  furniture, 
the  gorgeous,  velvet  tapestry  carpet,  and  the  massive  gilt 
chandeliers  that  depend  from  the  ceiling,  it  is  evident  that  the 
countenances  of  both  the  ladies  show  traces  of  deep  distress. 
These  ladies  are  Mrs.  Mordant  and  her  daughter  Mary. 

Let  us  listen  to  the  conversation  that  is  going  forward. 

"  Papa  will  surely  receive  her  back  home  again,  dear 
mamma,"  said  Mary  Mordant  to  her  mother,  in  reply  to  some 
remark  the  latter  had  made. 

"  I  scarcely  know,  Mary,"  returned  Mrs.  Mordant,  "  your 
father  is  justly  and  highly  exasperated.  The  fact  of  her  mar 
riage  with  that  swindler — which,  in  spite  of  all  our  efforts  io 
conceal  it,  has  become  only  too  well  known,  might  have  been 
got  over  ;  we  might  have  spread  the  report  abroad  that  the 
fellow  was  really  the  German  Count  he  falsely  represented  him 
self  to  be,  and  since  Sarah  had  sacrificed  herself  beyond  re 
demption,  your  father  might  have  procured  some  situation,  at 
a  distance  from  the  city,  for  her  husband,  and  so  in  time  the 
disgraceful  affair  might  have  been  hushed  up  and  eventually 
forgotten.  Indeed  I  had  almost  persuaded  him  to  exert  him 
self  for  this  purpose,  and  he  was  on  the  point  of  sending  them 
some  inonpv  for  their  immediate  necessities,  when  this  letter 


STORY.  329 

arrived  from  the  graceless  girl,  announcing  that  her  husband 
had  absconded,  taking  with  him  a  quantity  of  money  and 
valuables  he  had  purloined  from  some  of  the  lodgers  in  the 
hotel  in  Western  Canada,  and  that  she  has  been  detained  by 
the  hotel  keeper,  who  holds  her  responsible  for  the  robbery. 
The  affair  has  got  into  the  newspapers — worded  mysteriously, 
but  quite  plain  and  significant  enough  to  render  it  intelligible, 
and  in  fact,  Mrs.  Jones  and  Mrs.  Doughty,  who  called  this 
morning  on  a  visit — purposely  I  believe  to  insult  me,  and  who 
left  just  before  you  came  down  stairs,  had  the  effrontery  to 
commiserate  my  misfortune,  and  to  express  a  hope  that  the 
faux  pas  of  my  eldest  daughter  might  serve  as  a  lesson  to  you. 
Oh — dear — dear.  I  shall  never  be  able  to  survive  this  dis 
grace.  It  will  be  the  topic  of  conversation  not  only  through 
out  our  own  set,  but  will  afford  matter  for  scandal  to  all  the 
gossips  of  the  city.  To  think  that  a  daughter  of  mine — 
brought  up  as  Sarah  has  been  with  so  much  care,  and  in  such 
correct  principles — always  kept  aloof  from  low  people — should 
so  far  forget  herself !"  and  the  old  lady  had  again  recourse  to  a 
flood  of  tears. 

"  And  Louisa  Jones  and  Lucy  Doughty  will  be  so  glad  of  it. 
I'm  sure  they  will — the  stuck  up  creatures  !"  said  Mary,  "  they 
have  always  been  envious  of  us  because  papa  is  richer  than 
Mr.  Doughty  and  Mr.  Jones — who  both  made  their  money  as 
clothiers,  down  town,  while  papa  is  a  merchant  and  ship  owner 
— and  of  course,  far  above  them.  It  couldn't  be  expected  that 
Sarah  and  I  could  exactly  treat  Louisa  and  Lucy  as  our 
equals,  although  they  went  to  the  same  school,  and  gave  them 
selves  such  airs  ;  and  now,  they'll  have  their  revenge.  I  shall 
be  ashamed  to  look  them  in  the  face  again — I'm  sure  I  shall." 
And  Mary  followed  the  example  of  her  mother,  and  giving  way 
to  a  flood  of  tears,  caused  by  mingled  grief  and  vexation, 
buried  her  face  in  her  handkerchief. 

"  And  then  there's  that  man  Dixon,  the  Quaker  at  Philadel 
phia,"  said  Mrs.  Mordant,  still  sobbing  hysterically  as  she  spoke 
— "  he  has  written  to  your  father,  threatening  to  sue  Charles  for 
damages — in  consequence  of  his  having  married  that  hussy  of 
a  daughter  of  his,  and  then  left  her,  and  tried  to  enter  into 
another  matrimonial  engagement  with  Mr.  Wilson's  niece.  Oh 
dear  !  oh  dear  !  What  will  become  of  us  ?" 

"  Papa  has  money  enough,  ma,  to  satisfy  him.  I  am  sure 
I  think  Charles  was  right,  not  to  take  up  with  such  a  low  crea 
ture  as  Jeanette  Dixon — who  has  been  running  round  the 


330 

world  with  some  horrid  sailors  as  Mr.  Wilson  says,  and  as  she 
herself  confesses." 

"  I  am  riot  so  sure  that  your  pa'  has  money  to  spare  just 
now,  my  love.  He  never  tells  me  anything  about  his  circum 
stances,  which  I  think  is  wrong  ;  but  I  read  some  letters  the 
other  day,  when  he  left  the  key  of  his  writing  desk  at  home, 
which  satisfied  me  that  he  was  just  now  greatly  embarrassed, 
and  the  other  day  I  asked  him  for  some  money,  and  for  the 
first  time  in  his  life  he  refused  me,  and  made  some  rude  remark 
to  the  effect  that  he  had  something  else  to  do  with  his  money 
besides  spending  it  in  diamonds  and  such  like  trumpery  ;  the 
result  was  that  I  was  obliged  to  appear  at  Mrs.  Phillpot's 
party  with  my  old-fashioned  jewels,  while  that  odious  Mrs. 
Doughty  had  a  splendid  new  diamond  necklace  and  bracelets." 

"  Oh  ma'  !  you  don't  mean  to  say  that  pa'  is  a  ruined  man  ?" 
exclaimed  Mary.  "  That  would  be  horrible — worse  than  all 
— I'm  sure  I  could  never  survive  it.  Pa'  should  have  more 
regard  for  his  family  than  to  ruin  himself." 

"  I  don't  assert,  my  dear,  that  he  is  a  ruined  man  ;  but  1 
feel  confident,  from  various  incidents  that  have  happened  of 
late,  that  he  is  temporarily  embarrassed.  He  has  suffered 
great  losses  in  shipping  ;  and  since  Captain  Seymour  came 
back  he  has  been  very  cross  and  disconsolate.  Since  he  re 
ceived  Sarah's  letter  I  have  been  afraid  to  speak  to  him  ;  and 
then  there  is  that  odious,  vulgar  Mr.  Grindley,  calling  upon 
him  every  day  and  sitting  with  him  for  hours  ;  and  when  he  is 
not  here,  Mr.  Harvey  is.  Altogether  I  am  almost  driven  out 
of  my  senses." 

"  No  wonder,  ma';  but  what  is  to  become  of  Sarah  ?" 

"  Indeed  I  can't  say,"  replied  Mrs.  Mordant.  "  I  can  hardly 
make  up  my  mind  to  cast  her  oflf  altogether,  for  I  feel  that  she 
is  still  my  child;  but  your  father,  since  this  morning,  has  been 
raving  like  a  maniac,  and  he  swears  that  she  shall  never  darken 
his  doors  again." 

"  Sarah  was  always  forward  with  the  men,"  said  Mary,  who 
appeared  to  be  dreadfully  embittered  against  her  sister.  "  She 
used  to  make  me  perfectly  ashamed,  the  way  she  used  to  flirt 
with  Captain  Seymour,  and  he  jilted  her  after  all  ;  and  served 
her  right," 

Leaving  the  two  ladies  to  their  conversation,  let  us  ascend  to 
the  study  of  Mr.  Mordant,  where  he  is  sitting  at  the  table  at 
which  we  have  heretofore  introduced  him  to  the  reader,  again 
busily  occupied  with  a  file  of  papers  and  documents  of  various 


THE  CABIN  BOY'S  STORY.  331 

kinds,  although  his  attention  appeared  to  be  absorbed  at  this 
moment  in  the  perusal  of  a  letter  he  holds  in  his  hand.  Vex 
ation  is  depicted  in  his  countenance,  and  muttered  objurgations 
fall  from  his  lips  as  he  peruses  the  letter  again  for  the  third  or 
fourth  time.  It  has  arrived  this  very  morning  from  Canada, 
and  its  contents  run  as  follows  : 

HAMILTON,  C.  W.,  August  10th. 

DEAR  PAPA  AND  MAiftiA  : — 

Hardly  a  month  has  elapsed  since  I  foolishly  allowed  my 
affections  to  be  entrapped  by  that  wicked  man,  who  deceived 
me  into  marrying  him,  under  the  belief  that  he  was  not  Henry 
Hecker,  the  music  teacher,  but  Count  Yon  Kemperblossen,  and 
that  I  had  become  a  Countess  by  marrying  him.  Oh,  papa  and 
mamma,  your  erring  but  affectionate  daughter  has  been 
grossly  deceived  and  betrayed,  and  she  now  sues  for  your  forgive 
ness. 

We  waited  a  fornight  at  Toronto,  after  I  wrote  the  first  let 
ter  to  you,  announcing,  as  I  thought,  my  happy  and  fortunate 
marriage,  but  finding  that  you  sent  no  reply  and  no  money, 
Henry  became  cross  and  sulky,  and  one  day,  he  started  off  in 
a  hurry  for  this  place.  Here  his  conduct  became  still  worse; 
in  fact,  unbearable  ;  he  grew  slovenly  and  careless  as  regarded 
his  personal  appearance, — and,  would  you  believe  it  ?  his  hair 
and  moustache  turned  red  again.  I  asked  him  how  it  was,  for  I 
&tl\\  loved  him,  and  thought  peril  mips  grief  for  me  (because  you  had 
apparently  forsaken  me),  had  changed  their  color  again,  as  they 
did  once  before.  But  I  am  shocked  to  write  it  !  He  made  use 
of  a  naughty  word,  and  said  he  had  no  money  to  purchase  dye 
with.  So  his  beautiful  hair  and  moustache  were  dyed  !  I 
couldn't  bear  to  see  them  in  that  frizzy  state — and  as  red  as 
carrots  too — so,  in  my  innocence,  I  brought  him  an  ink  bottle, 
and  begged  him  to  stain  them  with  ink  ;  and  he  said  another 
naughty  word  and  flung  the  ink  bottle  at  me,  and  absolutely 
ruined  my  best  dress.  I  burst  into  tears  and  then  he  came  up 
and  kissed  me,  and  said  he  would  forgive  me,  if  on  the  next 
day  I  would  write  to  you  ;  and  I  promised  I  would.  It  was 
yesterday  I  was  going  to  write,  but  during  the  evening  some 
travellers  came  to  the  hotel,  and  Henry  introduced  himself  to 
them,  and  staid  drinking  with  them  till  past  midnight  ;  and 
then,  instead  of  coming  to  bed,  he  told  me  that  the  night  was 
fine,  and  he  should  walk  out  and  clear  his  head  from  the  fumes 


332  THE  CABIN  BOY'S  STORY. 

of  liquor—faugh !  could  I  have  thought  that  of  Henry  a  month 
ago  ?  But  Henry  didn't  come  back,  and  I  was  dreadfully  fright 
ened  all  night,  and  still  more  frightened  in  the  morning  when 
the  landlord  came  in  and  told  me  that  my  husband  had  bro 
ken  open  the  traveller's  boxes,  and  stolen  their  money,  and  had 
gone  off  besides  with  the  silver  spoons  belonging  to  the  hotel, 
and  that  he  should  hold  me  accountable.  I  indignantly  denied 
that  Henry  was  capable  of  any  such  deed,  and  said  he  was  the 
Count  Von  Kernpenblossen  in  disguise;  but  the  landlord  had 
the  impudence  to  tell  me  that  he  believed  I  was  an  accomplice, 
and  that  he  should  send  rne  to  prison.  So  I  burst  into  tears,  and 
told  him  and  all  the  men  and  women  present,  that  I  was  the 
daughter  of  Mr.  Mordant,  the  great  New  York  merchant  and 
ship-owner;  and  a  little  man,  in  a  shabby  black  coat,  with  his 
cuffs  all  stained  with  ink,  who  they  called  a  reporter,  began 
making  marks  on  a  piece  of  paper,  taking  down,  he  said,  all  I 
told.  The  landlord  seemed  inclined  to  believe  me,  and  said  he 
wouldn't  send  me  to  prison;  but  would  keep  me  for  the  present 
locked  up  in  my  room,  if  I  would  write  to  you  and  ask  you  to 
refund  the  money  for  our  board,  and  also  the  value  of  the 
stolen  property,  which  he  states  amounts  to  $700.00,  besides  a 
fortnight's  board  for  me  and  Henry,  $150.00,  including  wines 
(Henry  used  to  drink  a  great  deal  of  wine,  and  always  the,  lest 
and  the  most  expensive') .  I  said  I  would;  and  he  left  me,  giving 
me  till  to-day  to  compose  myself  ;  but  I  shall  never  compose  my 
self  again.  In  the  evening  the  chambermaid,  who  brought  me 
my  tea,  brought  also  a  weekly  paper,  that  was  printed  during 
the  afternoon,  and  what  do  you  think  that  impudent  reporter 
had  done  ?  Why,  put  the  story  into  the  newspaper  and  pub 
lished  it.  I  send  you  the  paragraph,  which  I  cut  out  and  have 
wafered  it  in  my  letter. 

Now,  dear  papa  and  mamma,  pray  don't  be  angry  with  your 
erring,  heart-broken,  and  truly  repentant  child;  but  pray  send  me 
the  money  and  as  much  more  as  will  bring  me  home  again,  or 
else  I  shall  be  driven  to  desperation,  and  shall  climb  up  the 
chimney  (for  the  door  is  locked  and  the  windows  are  barred),  and 
shall  make  my  escape  over  the  roof  of  the  house  and  go  and 
drown  myself  in  the  -St.  Lawrence.  I  have  fully  made  up  my 
mind  to  do  that  if  you  don't  send  the  money. 

Dear  papa  and  mamma;  your  hmrt-broken,  erring  and  re 
pentant  daughter  will  await  your  reply  with  sighs  and  tears, 
and  trembling  anxiety,  and  if  it  comes  not,  then  fare  well  to  life  • 


THE  CABIN  BOY'S  STORY.  333 

the  cold  clear  waters  of  the  St.  Lawrence,  shall  close  over  the 
remains  of 

Your  unhappy  yet  still  loving 

SARAH. 

P.  S.  Let  Mary  send  me  on  a  dress  to  travel  in,  for  I  find 
that  my  worthless  husband  has  taken  with  him  all  my  best 
dresses. 

SARAH. 

P.  P.  S.  I  open  my  letter  again  to  say  that  the  chamber 
maid  has  told  me,  just  now,  that  since  the  newspaper  was  pub 
lished  yesterday  afternoon,  that  horrid,  cruel,  ugly  wretch., 
Henry,  whom  I  lately  doted  on  so  fondly,  and  whom  I  now  hale 
just  as  much,  has  been  married  before.  A  woman  has  recog 
nised  him  from  his  description  upon  the  hand-bills,  and  says  that 
he  was  married  to  her  three  years  ago,  and  ran  away  from  her 
last  year,  just  before  you  engaged  him  to  teach  me  music.  She 
is  a  horrid,  ugly  woman,  the  chambermaid  says,  and  takes  in 
washing  and  mangling  in  the  suburbs  of  this  town. 
Your  doubly  unfortunate  child, 

SARAH. 

The  'paragraph,  which  had  been  cut  from  the  newspaper,  ran 
as  follows  : 

"  A  strange  and  rather  exciting  affair  came  off  this  morning 
at  the Hotel.  It  appears  that  a  fortnight  ago  a  Ger 
man,  and  a  female  whom  he  called  his  wife,  came  up  from 
Toronto,  and  took  lodgings  at  the  above  hotel.  They  had  but 
little  luggage,  and  as  they  did  not  offer  to  pay  their  board 
in  advance — the  landlord  two  days  since,  presented  his  bill  to 
the  man  who  had  been  living  in  most  expensive  style,  and 
making  free  use  of  our  worthy  townsman's  splendid  wines. 
He  promised  payment  the  next  day;  and  that  same  evening  a 
party  of  travellers  arrived  with  whom  he  ingratiated  himself, 
and  he  remained  in  their  company  until  midnight.  In  the 
morning  it  was  discovered  that  their  trunks  had  been  broken 
open,  and  their  money  and  valuables  extracted,  and  subse 
quently  it  was  found  that  all  the  silver  spoons  belonging  to 
the  hotel  had  been  stolen.  Suspicion  fell  upon  the  German, 
who,  it  was  shortly  discovered,  had  not  been  home  all  night, 
and  the  woman  he  called  his  wife  was  questioned  respecting 


334  THE  CABIN  BOY  3  STORY. 

him.  She  is  either  a  complete  simpleton,  or  else  an  accomp 
lished  swindler  herself — we  can  hardly  say  which  at  present. 
She  began  to  cry,  or  to  feign  tears;  and  said  she  was  a  Coun 
tess,  and  her  husband  was  Count  Yon'  Kempeublossen  in  dis 
guise  ;  and  on  being  told  that  she  would  be  sent  to  prison,  she 

said  further  that  her  father  was  Mr.  M ,  the  well  known 

ship-owner  of  New  York;  and  that  the  Count  had  been  engaged 
to  teach  her  music,  and  she  eloped  with  him.  This  may  be 
true,  or  not — though,  if  it  be  so,  it  is  unaccountable  to  us  how 
so  good-looking  a  girl  could  allow  herself  to  be  made  the  dupe 
of  such  an  ungainly  fellow  as  the  pretended  Count,  whose 
whole  attraction  consisted  in  his  immense  quantity  of  hair, 
beard,  moustache  and  whiskers,  which  were  black  when  he  ar 
rived  at  the  hotel,  but  as  red  as  beet-root  when  he  absconded. 
At  present  we  have  only  given  the  initials  of  the  merchant's 
name,  as  we  cannot  believe  the. girl's  statement  is  correct. 
Still  many  of  our  readers  will  doubtless  recognize  the  party 
alluded  to,  who,  we  expect,  will  immediately  deny  the  impu 
tation. 

"  Just  as  we  were  going  to  press,  we  learnt  that  a  German 
woman,  who  takes  in  washing  in  this  town,  has  recognized  the 
description  given  of  the  swindler  on  the  handbills,  as  that  of 
her  husband,  who  absconded  from  her  a  year  ago,  leaving  her 
with  four  small  children  to  support.  She  says  the  fellow's  real 
name  is  Hans  Kcenig,  and  that  he  is  by  trade  an  itinerant  fid 
dler.  If  the  facts  stated  by  the  girl  be  true,  the  disgrace 
will  fall  heavily  upon  her  family,  and  the  affair  will  furnish 
abundance  of  scandal  and  gossip  in  more  than  one  fashionable 
coterie  in  New  York." 

"  Confound  the  girl  I"  said  the  merchant,  crumpling  the  let 
ter  up  in  his  hand  ;  and  striking  his  hand  heavily  upon  the 
table,  he  rose  from  his  seat  and  strode  rapidly  to  and  fro  across 
the  room.  "  No,  no;  her  mother  may  plead  as  she  likes — • 
never  again  shall  she  darken  my  door — never,  never  !  She 
may  take  the  consequences  of  her  disgraceful  and  atrocious 
conduct.  She  may  drown  herself,  if  she  pleases.  So  much 
the  better  for  her  and  for  all  of  us-;  but  there's  no  fear  of  that, 

though.     By I  wish  she  would.     I  should  not  have  cared 

so  much  had  the  affair  not  got  into  the  public  prints.  In  the 
position  in  which  I  am  placed  at  present,  it  will  be  another 
push  down  hill  to  ruin.  And  then  the  scorn  of  my  friends  and 
acquaintances — -friends !  forsooth  1  I  shall  blow  my  brains 


THE    CABIN    BOY'S    STORY.  335 

out.  This  conies  of  the  absurd  education  my  wife  has  given  to 
the  girls.  Well,  she  arid  they  must  reap  the  fruits  of  the  seed 
she  has  sown.  And  there's  that  scoundrel  Charles,  too.  Old 
Dixon  threatens  me  with  exposure  and  a  lawsuit,  unless  I  com 
promise  matters,  and  settle  $10,000  on  his  hussey  of  a  daugh 
ter.  I  have  no  doubt  she  deluded  Charles  into  marrying  her. 
However,  I  shall  cut  Charles  off  with  a  shilling.  Hencefor 
ward  he  is  no  son  of  mine " 

The  clock  on  the  mantelpiece  struck  the  hour  of  eight. 

"  Ha!"  said  the  merchant,  "  eight  o'clock  already.  That  in 
famous  fellow,  Harvey,  who,  I  verily  believe,  has  been  deceiving 
me  all  along,  was  to  call  at  half-past  eight,  respecting  that 
cursed  affair  of  the  Widow  Miller's.  I  wish  the  whole  of  them 
were  in  perdition.  It  will  not  do,  though,  for  the  oily  scoun 
drel  to  catch  me  in  this  excited  condition  ;"  and  ringing  the 
bell,  which  the  servant  answered,  Mr.  Mordant  told  him  to 
show  Mr.  Harvey  into  the  study  if  he  should  call,  and  then 
retired  to  his  dressing  room,  to  change  his  attire  and  bathe  his 
face,  and  endeavor  to  disguise  his  agitation  as  well  as  might 
be,  prior  to  the  expected  visit  of  the  cool,  astute  lawyer. 

When  he  returned,  at  the  expiration  of  half  an  hour,  Mr. 
Harvey  was  seated  in  the  study. 

He  rose  to  salute  the  merchant  as  he  entered,  but  did  not 
speak,  being  apparently  desirous  that  Mr.  Mordant  should  be 
the  first  to  commence  the  conversation. 

"  Well,  sir,"  said  the  merchant,  after  a  few  moments'  silence, 
"  what  is  the  result  of  your  interview  with  Mrs.  Miller  ?" 

"  The  widow  obstinately  insists  upon  receiving  not  only  the 
entire  estate  back,  with  all  the  improvements  that  you  have 
made  upon  it,  and  the  trebly  increased  rental,  but  she  is  ava 
ricious  enough  also  to  demand  the  whole  of  the  back  rents  at  the 
rate  of  $1,000  a  year,  for  the  entire  period  since  the  death  of 
her  husband,  and- if  this  is  refused  she  threatens  exposure.  It 
is  my  opinion  that  she  is  aware  of  the  whole  of  the  circum 
stances  attending  the  purchase  of  the  estate  by  you,  and  of  the 
transactions — you  understand  me  ?"  and  the  lawyer  looked 
keenly  at  his  client — "  the  transactions  between  you  and  this 
Dutchman — Peyster  or  De  Peyster.  She  regards  the  latter, 
however,  as  a  simple  dupe — a  mere  tool  in  your  hands." 

"Good  heavens!"  exclaimed  the  merchant;  "  must  I  pay 
back  the  entire  rents  at  the  rate  of  $1,000  a  year  ?  Why,  the 
property  has  not  brought  that  rent  more  than  live  years,  and  I 
have  laid  out  thousands  in  its  improvement  ;  besides,  surely  it 


33t)  THE    CABIN    BOY'S    STORY. 

should  be  taken  into  consideration  ttiat  I  purchased  the  pro 
perty  in  the  belief  that  the  claim  of  Peyster  was  good " 

"  Hold,  uiy  dear  sir,"  exclaimed  Mr.  Harvey  ;  "  supposing 
you  did — and  (it  is  useless  to  allow  of  double-dealing  between 
a  lawyer  and  his  client,  and  I  know,  as  well  as  you,  that  you 
thought  no  such  thing) — but,  I  repeat,  supposing  you  did;  what 
would  the  court — and  more  than  the  court — what  would  the 
world  say  with  regard  to  a  wealthy  man,  who,  upon  the  de 
cease  of  a  poor  relative,  sought  out  voluntarily  and  proved  a 
claim  that  would  deprive  his  widow  of  the  main  stay  of  her 
means  of  livelihood,  and  then  purchased,  for  his  own  purposes, 
the  property  at  a  low  cost  ?  What  would  the  world  say  of 
this,  Mr.  Mordant,  even  could  you  make  it  believe  that  you 
really  thought  the  late  Mr.  Miller  held  the  property  by  a  false 
tenure  ?" 

"  Then  I  am  to  forfeit  this  large  sum  of  money,  or  submit  to 
a  disgraceful  exposure  ?  Speak  plainly,  Mr.  Harvey,  is  it  so  ?" 

"  Even  so,  Mr.  Mordant.  You  know  the  value  of  your 
reputation,  whether  or  not  it  is  worth  the  sacrifice." 

"  I  will  pay  the  money  and  restore  the  property,"  said  the 
merchant,  after  thinking  for  some  moments.  "But,  Mr.  Har 
vey,  as  an  offset  to  this  loss  on  my  part,  cannot  Mrs.  Miller  be 
persuaded  to  let  it  be  made  public  in  some  roundabout  way — 
not,  of  course,  openly  or  pompously — that  having  discovered, 
by  chance,  that  the  Dutch  claim,  under  which  I  purchased  the 
estate,  was  not  tenable,  I  generously  returned  it,  with  all  the 
improvements,  and  all  the  back  rents,  to  the  widow  ?  Such  a 
report,  freely  but  cautiously  circulated,  would  almost  reconcile 
me  to  the  loss." 

"Perhaps  that  maybe  effected,"  said  the  lawyer.  "The 
widow  will  know  better,  but  she  will  likely  be  so  rejoiced  at 
the  idea  of  receiving  back  the  property — quite  a  small  fortune 
to  her — that  she  will  make  no  objection  to  throw  in  the  plaster, 
if  it  will  heal  the  sore." 

"  And  it  might  be  hinted,  also,"  said  the  merchant,  quite 
cheerfully — for  he  foresaw  the  advantages  that  would  accrue  to 
him  if  it  were  believed  that  he  had  behaved  thus  nobly  and 
generously — "  it  might  be  hinted  that  I  had  procured  her  sou, 
through  my  influence,  an  appointment  in  the  navy,  and  had 
taken  the  youth  under  my  protection,  having  an  eager  desire 
to  push  his  fortunes  for  his  father's  sake." 

"Yes,  that  might  be  hinted,"  said  the  lawyer,  ironically, 
though  the  irony  was  unporoeived  by  the  merchant. 


THE  CABIN  BOY'S  STORY.  337 

"  And  now,  my  dear  sir,"  continued  Mr.  Harvey,  "  there  is 
that  other  little  matter,  with  regard  to  Mr.  Charles  and  old 
Dixon.  The  old  man  is  obstinate.  What  do  you  intend  to 
do — pay  him  the  $10,000  he  demands  ?" 

"  No,  sir  ;  I  believe  Charles  was  ensnared — entrapped  into 
this  marriage.  I  intend  to  contest  the  case." 

"  And  lose  $20,000,  besides  giving  publicity  to  a  matter, 
which,  for  the  sake  of  all  parties  implicated,  had  better  be  kept 
secret,  and  buried  in  oblivion." 

"  But  you  don't  mean  to  say  that  Dixon — or  the  infamous 
girl,  rather — would  gain  the  suit  ?" 

"Unquestionably  she  would,  and  your  son  would  have  to 
allow  the  female  a  yearly  sum  in  proportion  to  his  circumstan 
ces  at  the  period  the  marriage  was  consummated.  Mr.  Mordant, 
I  have  examined  into  this  matter  thoroughly.  Your  son  has 
no  loop-hole  by  which  he  can  effect  his  escape." 

"But  I  shall  disinherit  him.  How  can  he  pay  the  money 
then  ?  I  ought  surely  not  to  be  accountable  for  his  foolish 
conduct  ?" 

"  The  world  is  censorious,  Mr.  Mordant.  Is  the  opprobrium 
that  would  be  cast  upon  your  family,  were  this  affair  to  be 
come  public,  worth  averting  by  the  sacrifice  of  $10,000,  or  is 
it  preferable  to  suffer  it  to  fall  on  you,  and  lose,  besides,  twice 
that  sum  ?  That  is  the  question  to  be  considered." 

"  Good  heavens  !"  exclaimed  the  merchant,  "  these  payments, 
added  to  the  losses  I  have  lately  suffered,  will  well  nigh  ruin 
me." 

The  lawyer  smiled.  "  Nay,  nay,  Mr.  Mordant,"  said  he,  "  I 
know  well  that  however  annoying  it  may  be  to  sacrifice  so 
much  money,  the  loss  of  twice  that  sum  would  not  ruin  you, 
or  even  shake  your  credit,  always  provided  your  reputation 
were  preserved." 

"  If  it  is  necessary — absolutely  advisable  and  necessary — I 
will  pay  the  money,"  said  the  merchant.  "  But,"  he  added, 
"  can  a  divorce  riot  be  procured  ?" 

"  No  doubt  it  can,  and  I  fancy  that  Miss  Dixoii,  or  rather  I 
should  say,  Mrs.  Charles  Mordant  and  her  friends,  would  then 
willingly  aid  in  effecting  one." 

"Then  Charles  might  yet  marry  Miss  Wilson.  In  that  case 
1  would  be  half  inclined  to  forgive  the  boy.  His  marriage 
with  Marie  Wilson  would,  for  reasons  that  you  know  not  of, 
be  of  vast  pecuniary  benefit  to  me." 

"I  doubt  if  Marie  Wilson  can  be  induced  to  consent  to  the 


338 

marriage/' replied  Mr.  Harvey;  "but  that  is  a  matter  of  after 
consideration.  However,  I  have  yet  another  affair  to  speak 
of.  We  may  as  well  settle  everything  at  once.  Grindley  has 
seen  me  respecting  that  threatened  exposure  of  the  affair  of 
the  Dolphin  at  Sierra  Leone.  I  see  no  remedy  but  for  you  to 
pay  the  money  demanded." 

"  The  money  has  been  paid.  I  trust  I  shall  hear  no  more 
of  that,"  said  Mr.  Mordant.  And  after  a  short  conversation 
on  other  matters  the  lawyer  wished  Mr.  Mordant  good-night, 
and  left  him  to  his  far  from  agreeable  meditations.  However, 
the  first  blow  of  misfortune  is  always  the  weightiest;  those 
that  fall  later  serve  even  to  modify  the  pain;  and  the  merchant, 
after  giving  vent  freely  to  his  feelings,  and  anathematizing  Mr. 
Harvey  and  all  of  his  class  as  a  set  of  vampires,  summed  up 
his  losses,  and  at  length,  for  the  first  time  that  day,  joined  his 
family  in  the  parlor  below.  The  subject  of  the  elder  daugh 
ter's  marriage  was,  however,  not  mentioned  either  by  the 
father,  mother,  or  sister. 

Was  Mr.  Harvey  actuated  by  sentiments  of  generosity  and 
justice  in  the  effective  part  he  had  played  in  obtaining  for  the 
widow  the  restoration  of  her  property  ?  Let  us  see. 

On  the  morning  following  the  lawyer's  visit  to  Mr.  Mordant 
he  crossed  the  Jersey  City  Ferry,  and  wended  his  way  to  the 
widow  Miller's  cottage. 

"  I  am  happy,  Mrs.  Miller,  to  congratulate  you  on  the  suc 
cess  of  my  exertions  to  procure  for  you  the  restoration  of  the 
property  unjustly  withheld  from  you  so  many  years  by  Mr.  Mor 
dant,"  said  he,  after  he  had  entered  the  house  and  been  invited 
to  seat  himself  by  the  lady. 

"Is  it  possible  that  Mr.  Mordant  has  voluntarily  given  it 
up,  without  having  recourse  to  legal  measures  ?"  said  the 
widow,  almost  overcome  with  delight  at  the  prospect  of  her 
coming  good  fortune. 

"He  has,  madam,  and  the  back  rents  with  it,  $300  a  year 
for  the  last  ten  years — amounting  to  $3000.  I  could  have  in 
sisted  on  $1,000  a  year  for  the  last  five  years;  but  Mr.  Mor 
dant  parted  with  the  estate  so  willingly  when  he  found  that  he 
was  really  its  unlawful  possessor — (do  you  know  that  I  am 
half  inclined  to  believe  that  he  has  not  been  quite  so  guilty  as 
I  was  at  first  induced  to  think) — that  I  thought  $3,000  was 
sufficient  to  mulct  him  of;  and  as  he  has  lost  the  estate,  it 
would  perhaps  be  a  salvo  if  the  rumor  were  spread  abroad  that 
he  had  restored  the  whole  back  rents,  say  $10,000,  though  for 


THE    CABIN    BOY'S    STORY.  339 

the  first  five   years  they  did  not  much  exceed  $300  per  an 
num." 

"  As  you  please,  Mr.  Harvey,"  said  the  widow.  "  I  leave 
everything  in  your  hands.  You  have  acted  so  generously,  that 
I  cannot  be  sufficiently  grateful  to  you.  You  must  accept  of 
at  least  one-half  of  the  $3,000." 

Mr.  Harvey  looked  somewhat  confused  at  this  generous 
offer  on  the  part  of  the  widow,  and  the  blood  rushed  to  his 
cheeks;  he  knew  that  he  should  already  pocket  $1,000;  but  the 
offer  was  too  tempting  to  be  refused.  He  gulped  down  the  ris 
ing  remorse  of  conscience,  and  merely  saying  that  he  had  been 
at  considerable  expense  and  trouble,  accepted  the  offer. 

"  Oh,  if  my  poor  Jane  were  only  alive  to  share  my  good  for 
tune  !"  said  the  widow,  the  tears  rushing  to  her  eyes  as  she 
thought  of  her  long-lost  child.  "  And  my  boy,"  she  added,  "I 
shall  be  able  to  help  him  forward  now;  $1,000  a  year  added  to 
the  little  income  I  now  possess,  will  make  me  quite  easy  in  my 
circumstances." 

"The  G ,  in  which  ship  your  son  sailed,  is  expected  to 

arrive  at  Norfolk  every  day/'  replied  the  lawyer. 

"  Then  I  shall  soon  see  my  dear  William,"  exclaimed  the 
delighted  mother,  gratefully  pressing  the  hand  of  the  lawyer. 

"God  bless  you!"  she  added.  "God  bless  you,  Mr.  Har 
vey,  for  your  kindness  to  the  widow  and  the  orphan.  Would 
to  God  that  there  were  more  men  like  you." 

"  Don't  mention  that,  madam,"  replied  Mr.  Harvey.  "  I 
have  but  done  my  duty.  By-the-by,  it  would  be  as  well  if  you 
did  not  call  upon  Mr.  Mordant;  or  if  you  do,  say  nothing- 
more  than  you  can  help  respecting  this  affair.  He  naturally 
feels  a  little  sore  upon  the  subject;  and,  as  I  shall  spread 
abroad  the  report  that  he  has  voluntarily  restored  the  full 
amount  of  the  back  rents,  it  would  be  as  well  for  you  to  make 
him  think,  should  the  subject  be  brought  up,  that  you  believe 
you  have  received  them." 

"  Assuredly,"  said  the  widow;  "I  feel  too  grateful  to  him 
not  to  forgive  his  past  misconduct,  if  indeed,  he  were  cognizant 
of  the  injustice  he  was  doing  me  and  mine,  and  I  am  willing  to 
serve,  him  in  any  way  I  can.  It  will  be  a  white  lie,"  she  added, 
smilingly  ;  one  that  the  recording  angel  will  blot  out  as  he 
marks  it  down.  I  shall  assist  in  spreading  the  report  of  his 
generosity,  for  he  really  has  restored  the  rents  as  they  were 
during  my  dear  husband's  lifetime." 


340  THE  CABIN  BOY  S  STORY. 

"  You  will  be  acting  generously,  madam,"  said  the  lawyer, 
as  he  put  on  his  hat  and  gloves,  and  left  the  cottage. 

"  So,  so  !"  he  said  to  himself,  as  he  turned  his  steps  towards 
home.  I  have  made  a  comfortable  thing  out  of  this  business — 
pocketed  a  cool  $8,500.  My  conscience  stuck  a  little  at  the 
widow's  offer,  but  I  couldn't  allow  it  to  conquer.  Now,  with 
regard  to  this  affair  with  Dixon,  if  I  can  get  the  old  fellow  to 
compromise,  I  don't  think  it  will  be  difficult  to  deal  with  the 
girl.  Perhaps,  by  writing  to  him,  or,  better  still,  seeing  him, 
and  stating  that  Mr.  Mordant  is  willing  to  give  $5,000  or  $7,000 
to  hush  up  the  matter,  and  will  also  lend  his  aid  to  obtain  the 
divorce,  which  I  know  the  girl  wants  to  procure,  I  may  make  a 
few  thousands  out  of  that." 

And,  with  the  happy  feeling  that  a  man  possesses,  whose 
conscience  will  stretch  conveniently  to  any  length,  when  he  has 
made  a  good  day's  work,  and  filled  his  pockets  with  the  spoil 
cozened  from  others,  the  lawyer  reached  his  home,  and  retired 
to  his  pillow  to  dream  of  his  good  fortune,  and,  perchance,  to 
ponder  over  fresh  schemes  of  professional  extortion. 


CHAPTER  XXXIII. 

Which  describes  various  Unexpected  Interviews. 

WE  left  Seymour  just  at  the  moment  he  had  set  his  feet  on 
shore  o-n  Zuleika's  Isle,  after  his  return  from  New  York.  Be 
fore,  however,  we  proceed  with  his  further  history  it  is  requi 
site  for  us  to  retrace  our  steps  and  relate  the  particulars  of  his 
visit  to  Camdeii — the  abode  of  Mrs.  Martin.  The  party,  so 
singularly  brought  together,  consisting  of  Captain  Seymour, 
Mrs.  Sarah  Donaldson  and  Frank — started  for  Camden,  the 
day  following  that  of  their  arrival  at  Augusta.  The  journey 
was  not  a  very  long  one  ;  but  during  its  course  they  found 
means  to  become  as  well  acquainted  each  with  the  other  as 
though  they  had  known  each  other  as  relatives  for  years_ 

"  By-the-by,  Frank,"  said  Seymour.  "  There  is  one  small 
link  iu  this  chain  of  relationship  which  still  requires  clearing. 
"  You  told  me  in  New  York,  the  evening  you  were  so  exceed 
ingly  communicative,  that  your  father  was  an  officer  in  the  U.  S. 


THE    CABIN     BOY''*    STORY.  341 

Army  ;-  but  that  your  grandfather  was  drowned  at  sea.  His 
name,  that  is  your  mother's  father's  name,  must  have  been 
Donaldson.  Now  as  yet  I  have  heard  only  of  the  Mary  Do 
naldson  whom  my  scapegrace  of  a  grandfather  wedded,  and 
this  lady,  Mrs.  Sarah  Donaldson  here  present,  the  question 
is,  boy,  who  was  your  grandfather:  was  he  a  brother  of  this 
lady  ?  I  have  not  yet  heard  that  Mr.  Donaldson  of  Rose 
Abbey  had  a  son." 

"  I'm  sure  I  can't  say,  sir — I  only  know  that  I  have  heard 
my  mother  say  that  her  father  was  drowned  at  sea,  while  en 
gaged  on  a  whaling  voyage  from  Nantucket,  and  that  her  mo 
ther  died  very  shortly  after  she  heard  the  news  of  her 
husband's  loss.  My  mother  had  been  well  educated,  and  she 
obtained  a  situation  as  governess  in  a  family  at  Augusta, 
where  she  met  my  father,  and  whence  he  married  her.  More 
than  this  I  know  not.  My  mother  has  seldom  spoken  to  me  of 
her  relatives  in  England." 

"  I  can  explain  this  mystery,"  said  Mrs.  Donaldson,  who, 
although  very  feeble  and  still  sometimes  rather  flighty  in  her 
conversation,"  appeared  to  possess  a  fund  of  good  sense,  and  to 
be  a  woman  of  great  intelligence.  "  Mary,  my  elder  sister, 
had  two  brothers,  William  arid  Frank,  both  younger  by  several 
years  than  we  ;  and  Frank  was  the  younger  of  the  two  ;  Wil 
liam  married  a  young  lady  who  died  in  giving  birth  to  a  daugh 
ter  who  was  named  Sarah,  who  with  her  father  accompanied 
me  to  the  United  States  some  years  since,  and  who  have  never 
been  heard  of  since  they  left  the  hotel  at  which  we  put  up  in 
New  York,  in  order  to  make  a  short  tour  up  the  Hudson.  I 
was  in  ill  heath  at  the  time,  or  I  should  have  accompanied 
them.  It  was  in  the  month  of  August,  184 — .  William  inhe 
rited  a  considerable  property  from  an  uncle  who  had  declared 
him  his  heir  from  the  period  of  his  earliest  boyhood  ;  and  as 
our  father's  property  was  not  entailed  upon  the  oldest  son,  and 
William  was  amply  provided  for,  he  resolved  to  leave  his  for 
tune,  which  was  sufficient,  though  not  large,  to  his  daughters 
and  his  younger  son  Frank.  Frank  was  our  favorite  brother. 
He  was  so  much  younger  than  any  of  us  that  we  considered 
him  as  the  pet  of  the  family,  and  he  was  completely  spoiled. 
As  he  grew  up,  being  naturally  of  an  impetuous  disposition,  he 
became  headstrong  and  obstinate,  always  obeying  his  own  im 
pulses,  although  in  opposition  to  the  will  of  his  father  or  the 
advice  of  his  brother  and  sisters.  Still  we  loved  him,  he  was 
so  kind-hearted  and  so  generous.  At  the  age  of  eighteen  he 


342  THE  CABIN  BOY'S  STORY. 

fell  in  love  with  the  pretty  daughter  of  one  of  our  father's 
tenants,  and  acting  upon  his  headstrong  impulses,  he  married 
her  privately,  she  then  being  only  sixteen  years  of  age. 

"  Our  father  was  greatly  exasperated,  and  he  vowed  he 
would  never  allow  the  young  married  couple  to  enter  his  door, 
nor  acknowledge  the  cottager's  daughter  as  his  son's  wife.  I 
have  no  doubt,  however,  that  had  Frank  behaved  submissively, 
he  would  have  looked  over  the  mesalliance  in  the  course  of  time, 
and  all  would  have  gone  on  well  ;  but  Frank  got  into  a  furious 
passion  ;  declared  he  would  never  ask  his  father's  pardon,  and 
would  not  allow  his  wife  to  enter  his  father's  house.  Our  fa 
ther  said  he  would  expunge  his  name  from  his  will,  and  in  Ihe 
heat  of  passion  he  did  so.  Frank  wrote  to  me,  telling  me  that 
he  had  determined  to  go  with  his  young  bride  to  the  United 
States,  and  make  that  his  adopted  country,  and  that  he  should 
work  his  way  out  in  a  packet  ship,  and  afterwards  send  for  his 
wife.  He  also  stated  that  he  always  had  an  inclination  for  the 
sea,  and  intended  thenceforward  to  adopt  it  as  his  profession. 
I  showed  the  letter  to  William  and  Mary,  and  we  talked  the 
matter  over  together.  The  result  was  that  I  wrote  to  Frank, 
begging  him  to  alter  his  resolve  and  saying  that  his  father's 
anger  would  soon  cool  down.  However,  he  replied  that  he  had 
fully  made  up  his  mind  and  nothing  could  make  him  change  it. 
Being  well  aware  that  further  expostulation  would  be  useless, 
William  sent  him  a  few  hundred  pounds  as  a  loan — had  he  not 
stipulated  that,  Frank  would  never  have  accepted  it — so  that 
he  was  enabled  to  take  a  passage  for  himself  and  his  wife  on 
board  a  comfortable  ship,  and  to  have,  besides,  a  small  surplus 
when  he  arrived  in  America.  He  subsequently  wrote  to  us, 
saying  that  he  had  shipped  on  board  a  whaler,  and  for  some 
years  we  heard  nothing  of  him.  At  length  a  letter  arrived 
from  him  containing  a  bill  of  exchange  for  the  lent  money,  in 
which  letter  he  stated  that  he  had  obtained  the  command  of  a 
whaleship  out  of  Nantucket,  and  that  his  wife  had  given  birth 
to  a  daughter.  We  never  heard  from  him  individually  again  ; 
but  from  a  foreign  source  we  heard  some  years  afterwards  that 
the  whaler  he  commanded  had  been  lost  at  sea.  Shortly  after 
this,  father  had  died,  leaving  his  property  to  me.  I  wrote  to 
the  United  States  several  times,  in  the  hope  to  discover  the 
whereabouts  of  the  young  widow  and  her  child;  but  in  vain. 
Again  years  passed  ;  still,  whenever  opportunity  occurred,  I 
continued  to  prosecute  my  inquiries,  and  at  last  I  heard  from 
a  friend  who  had  been  travelling  in  America  that  he  had  been 


THE    CAJJiN    BOY'S    STORY.  343 

told  that  Mrs.  Donaldson,  Frank's  widow,  had  died  shortly 
after  she  had  received  the  intelligence  of  her  husband's  death, 
and  that  the  daughter  had  grown  up  and  married  an  officer  of 
the  United  States  Army,  named  Martin ;  also  that  she  was  a 
widow,  and  had  a  daughter  named  Sarah.  He  did  not  know 
whether  she  had  any  sous  or  not,  but  did  not  think  she  had. 
William  and  I  and  his  daughter  resolved  to  come  ourselves  to 
America,  and  endeavor  to  trace  out  Frank's  child.  I  was  so 
pleased  at  his  widow's  calling  her  daughter  after  me,  that  I  de 
termined  to  make  the  little  girl  my  heiress.  We  heard,  on  our 
arrival  in  this  country,  that  the  widow  Martin  was  residing  some 
where  in  "he  State  of  Maine — and  we  were  on  our  way  thither, 
when  my  poor  brother  and  his  child  were  lost  so  mysteriously. 
I  was  in  ill  health,  and  the  shock  so  affected  me  that  I  lost  my 
reason  ;  and  for  some  time,  even  alter  my  recovery,  I  lived  the 
life  of  a  recluse,  until  a  curious  circumstance  occurred,  which 
is  not  worth  while  to  allude  to  further  just  now — which  awa 
kened  my  dormant  inquiries.  I  pursued  my  investigations, 
and  thank  Heaven  they  have  been  crowned  with  success.  I 
have  found,  however,  that  I  have  two  grand  nephews  as  well 
as  a  grand  niece  to  share  my  fortune,  and  that  of  my  poor  bro 
ther  William,  which  reverts  to  me,  should  not  he  or  his  daugh 
ter  be  again  heard  of." 

"  You  have  fully  cleared  up  the  last  doubt  in  the  chain  of 
evidence,  as  the  lawyers  would  say,  madam,"  said  Seymour. 
"But  where  are  we.  The  stage  has  stopped.  You  should 
know  the  country,  Frank,  since  you  were  '  to  the  manor  born.' 
What  place  is  this  ?" 

"  Camden,  by  Jove  ?"  said  Frank,  looking  out  of  the  win 
dow;  and  then  springing  from  the  stage.  "  A  quarter  of  an 
hour's  walk  will  carry  us  te  my  mother's  residence,  which  is 
right  on  the  cliff,  overhanging  the  bay.  We  can  see  it  from 
that  hilly  road,  which  we  shall  have  to  pass  over." 

The  party  alighted  from  the  stage,  and  leaving  their  luggage 
to  be  carried  to  the  widow's  cottage  by  a  porter,  proceeded  on 
their  way.  It  was  a  wild,  romantic  country — the  scenery  we 
have  heretofore  described  in  the  fifth  chapter  of  our  story — and 
all  the  party  being  in  high  spirits,  they  enjoyed  the  walk 
greatly. 

Soon  they  arrived  on  the  brow  of  the  precipice,  where  a  pre 
cipitous  road  led  to  the  valley  in  which  the  farm  and  cottage 
were  located.  The  sun  was  shining  brilliantly,  and  the  bay 
beneath  them  glistened  with  its  rays.  The  little  islet,  whereon 


344  THE  CABIN  BOY'S  STORY. 

Frank  had  in  former  days — six  years  ago — fancied  himself  ;i 
second  Robinson  Crusoe,  spread  its  dark  shadow  over  the  clear 
smooth  water,  and  the  young  sailor  was  recounting  to  Seymour 
the  particulars  of  his  boyish  fancy,  greatly  to  the  amusement 
of  the  captain,  when  a  lovely  girl,  who  was  gathering  wild 
flowers  in  the  hedge-row,  started  at  the  approach  of  unwonted 
visitors  and  endeavored  to  hide  himself  in  a  copse  by  the  way 
side.  But  Frank  had  seen  and  recognized  her. 

"  My  sister  Sarah!"  he  exclaimed,  and  stopping  short  in  his 
story  he  sprang  to  embrace  her.  In  a  few  minutes  he  led  her 
to  his  companions,  and  introduced  her  to  her  grand  aunt,  and 
to  Seymour. 

"  And  this  is  my  namesake  and  grandniece,  Sarah  Donald 
son  Martin,"  said  Mrs  Donaldson,  embracing  the  blushing  girl. 
"  Well,  she  is  one  I  may  well  be  proud  of." 

"  What  a  pretty  girl,"  said  Seymour.  "  Frank,  you  have 
found  me  a  cousin  it  will  be  a  pleasure  to  fancy  myself  related 
to." 

He  spoke  the  truth.  Sarah  Martin,  whom  we  have  hereto 
fore  described  as  giving  promise,  in  her  early  girlhood,  of  great 
beauty,  had  grown,  now  in  her  fourteenth  year,  to  be  a  most 
lovely  girl,  still  however,  preserving  her  timid,  retiring  dispo 
sition.  Frank  was  her  favorite  brother,  and  tears  of  delight 
filled  her  large,  soft,  dark  blue  eyes,  as,  her  hand  locked  in  his, 
she  led  the  way  with  him  to  their  mother's  abode. 

The  widow  received  her  son,  now  a  fine  young  man  of  twenty 
years  of  age,  as  one  arisen  from  the  dead;  for,  as  one  that  was 
dead,  had  she  mourned  for  him. 

A  couple  of  days  were  spent  happily  in  this  lovely, 
peaceful  home:  and  Mrs.  Donaldson  seemed  suddenly  to  have 
grown  young  again,  as  she  sat  at  .the  cottage  door  in  the  clear, 
soft  summer  evening,  and  talked  with  her  niece  of  those  rela 
tives  of  whom  the  latter  had  known  so  little.  Seymour  en 
joyed  himself  roaming  on  the  sea-shore  with  Frank,  and  visit 
ing  the  long-forsaken  Crusoe's  cave;  and  had  he  had  Zuleika 
with  him,  felt  that  he  could  have  been  content  to  make  his 
home  here,  with  her  for  his  constant  companion;  but  his  busi 
ness  required  him  to  return,  after  a  sojourn  of  a  day  or  two,  to 
New  York,  for  he  was  anxious  to  complete  the  arrangement  of 
his  affairs,  and  hasten  to  rejoin  his  wife  in  her  distant  island 
home.  Mrs.  Donaldson,  too,  had  her  own  affairs  to  settle, 
and  she  much  wished  that  Frank  should  accompany  her,  promis 
ing  when  everything  was  satisfactorily  arranged,  to  return  and 


THE    CABIN    BOY'S    STORY.  345 

live  at  the  cottage,  for  she  had  no  other  relative  but  her  niece, 
that  she  knew  of,  then  living.  Frank,  it  was  settled,  was  to 
return  with  her;  and  now  that  the  circumstances  of  the  family 
were  so  promising,  he  agreed  to  stay  thenceforward  with  his 
mother,  and  enlarge  and  superintend  the  duties  of  the  farm. 
Sarah  had  never  been  far  away  from  home — never  further  than 
A  ugusta— and  her  brother  obtained  his  mother's  consent  for 
her  to  journey  with  them,  as  they  intended  to  visit  both  Boston 
and  New  York,  and  Sarah  was  anxious  to  see  her  brother 
William. 

They  set  out  on  their  journey ;  first  visiting  Augusta,  where 
Mrs.  Donaldson  placed  her  affairs  into  the  hands  of  Mr.  Deane 
to  arrange,  and  then  proceeded  direct  to  Boston,  where  Seymour 
and  Mrs.  Donaldson  were  introduced  to  William  Martin,  and 
Sarah  was  enabled  to  spend  a  short  time  with  her  elder  brother. 
Thence  after  a  few  days'  stay,  just  sufficiently  long  to  see  the 
the  "  lions"  of  the  city  and  its  environs,  they  took  seats  in  the 
cars  for  New  York. 

William  Martin  walked  to  the  depot  with  them  to  see  them 
off  ;  and  just  as  they  were  on  the  point  of  starting,  he  said — 
"  By-the-by,  Frank,  I  had  almost  forgotten  to  tell  you  that  the 

IT,  S.  frigate  G ,  arrived  at  Norfolk  three  days  since;  so 

you  did  not  get  much  the  start  of  her  after  all." 

"  No,"  said  Frank,  as  he  shook  his  brother  by  the  hand,  as 
the  cars  were  put  in  motion,  "  the  vessel  I  came  home  in  sailed 
like  a  wash-tub." 

Mrs.  Donaldson  and  Sarah  took  two  seats  by  themselves, 
which  chanced  to  be  vacant,  while  Seymour  and  Frank  occu 
pied  a  double  seat,  the  place  in  front  of  them  being  already 
partially  occupied  by  a  young  man,  wrapped  in  a  blue  cloak, 
who  appeared  to  have  been  travelling  from  some  distance,  for 
he  was  soundly  sleeping.  The  motion  of  the  cars,  however, 
awoke  him,  and  starting  up,  he  threw  off  his  cloak,  remarking 
that  it  was  growing  warm,  and  displayed  beneath,  the  uniform 
of  a  midshipman  of  the  United  States  Navy. 

The  uniform  at  once  attracted  the  attention  of  Frank,  and 
looking  in  the  face  of  the  wearer  he  recognized  Thomas  Miller, 
liis  late  shipmate  on  board  the  G . 

Mr.  Miller!"  he  exclaimed,  "  do  you  not  recognize  me,  sir? 

I  am  Frank  Martin,  the  sailor  that  was  rescued  by  the  G 

from  the  floating  wreck  off  the  Bahamas." 

"God  bless  me,  Frank,  how  do  you  do?"  exclaimed  the 

15* 


346         THE  CABIN  BOY'S  STORY. 

young  officer,  freely  extending  his  hand,  "  I  recollect  now,  you 
were  sent  home  invalided  from  the  frigate." 

"  Yes,"  replied  Frank,  "  allow  me,  sir,  to  introduce  to  you 
Captain  Seymour.  Yonder  sits  my  aunt  and  sister  ;  I  will 
present  you  to  them  by-and-by.  Captain  Seymour,"  he  added, 
"  this  gentleman  and  I  were  in  very  different  stations  on  board 

the  G ,  but  he  is  not  too  proud  to  recognize  me,  you 

see," 

"  Certainly  not,"  said  the  young  midshipman  ;  "we  are  not 
on  shipboard,  you  know,  now ;  but  did  you  say  this  gentleman's 
name  was  Seymour;  Captain  Seymour?"  and  he  looked  at  Sey 
mour  with  no  pleasant  expression  of  countenance. 

"  Yes,"  replied  Frank,  "  this  is  Captain  Seymour." 

"  Did  you  command  the  Albatross,  a  trading  vessel  belong 
ing  to  Mr.  Mordant  of  New  York,  sir  ?"  asked  the  young  offi 
cer. 

"  I  did,"  replied  Seymour,  "  and  the  thought  has  just  struck 
me — surely,  you  are  not  the  brother  of  Miss  Jane  Miller,  who 
is,  I  believe,  a  relative  of  Mr.  Mordant  ?" 

"  I  am  her  brother,  sir,"  said  the  midshipman  sharply. 

Seymour  appeared  to  be  astonished  at  the  vehemence  of  his 
tone;  but  a  sudden  recollection  flashed  through  his  mind. 

"  I  perceive,  Mr.  Miller,"  said  he,  "  that  you  are  inclined  to 
think  evil  of  me.  I  recollect  now  that  your  sister  unaccounta 
bly  left  her  home,  sometime  since  now — -just  before  I  last  sailed 
in  command  of  the  Albatross,  from  New  York.  But,  surely, 
she  has  since  returned,  or  been  heard  of  ?" 

"  She  has  not,"  replied  the  midshipman. 

"  Dear  me,  dear  me,  this  is  sad  news,"  said  Seymour.  "I 
remember  that  your  mother  thought  harshly  of  me  in  regard  to 
my  conduct  towards  her  daughter.  But,  Mr.  Miller,"  he  added, 
earnestly;  and  extending  his  hand  again,  "  I  give  you  my  word 
of  honor,  I  know  nothing  of  your  sister's  disappearance,  and  I 
was  grieved  deeply  when  I  heard  of  it." 

There  was  something  in  the  impressive  tone  of  Seymour's 
voice,  that  convinced  the  young  man  that  he  spoke  the  truth, 
and  he  frankly  took  the  captain's  extended  hand.  "I  am 
glad  to  hear  you  say  so,"  he  replied,  "  and  I  believe  you  ;  but 
I  fear  my  sister  is  lost  for  ever — is  dead !"  and  his  voice  trem 
bled  as  he  spoke. 

Seymour  did  not  reply,  and  some  time  elapsed  ere  the  con 
versation  thus  suddenly  broken  off  was  resumed.  However, 


THE    CABIN    BOY'S    STORY.  347 

Tom  Miller  was  young  ;  he  was  going  home  to  see  his  mother 
after  his  first  voyage  at  sea;  he  was  going  home  in  all  the 
splendor  of  a  new  uniform,  which  set  off  his  person  to  advan 
tage,  to  captivate  the  maidens  of  New  Jersey,  and  which  had 
been  purchased  and  fitted  expressly  for  the  occasion,  at  Nor 
folk,  after  the  arrival  of  that  ship,  and  his  reserve  gradually 
wore  off.  The  conversation  was  resumed  in  a  cheerful  strain, 
and  when  the  cars  arrived  at  the  depot  in  New  York,  the 
young  officer  pressed  all  the  party  to  accompany  him  to  the 
residence  of  his  mother  in  Jersey.  Seymour  was  glad  of  the 
opportunity.  He  wished  to  see  the  widow  and  talR  with  her  oi 
Jane.  Yet  he  did  not  like  to  offer  to  pay  her  a  visit.  The 
others  of  the  party  had  no  particular  place  to  go  to,  and  they 
willingly  assented. 

In  the  course  of  half  an  hour  after  they  had  alighted  from 
the  cars,  they  were  at  the  door  of  Mrs.  Miller's  cottage.  The 
widow  was  overjoyed  to  see  her  son  safe  returned,  and  after 
the  first  transports  of  affection  had  passed,  she  said  : 

"  Dear  Tom,  you  have  arrived  most  opportunely.  A  lady 
has  called  upon  me  this  morning,  who  was  on  board  the  ship  of 
war  with  you — the  same  by  whom  you  sent  me  the  letters.  She 
has  come  from  New  Orleans.  She  was  answering  my  inquiries 
respecting  you  when  you  arrived  " — 

"  Can  it  be  Miss  Herbert!"  exclaimed  Tom. 
"  Yes,  that  is  the  name,"  replied  the  widow. 
"Miss  Herbert!"  exclaimed  Frank  Martin.     "  How  strange 
a  circumstance.     She  was  saved  with  me  from  the  wreck." 

"  You  saved  her,  Frank  Martin,"  said  Tom  Miller,  pressing 
the  young  sailor's  hand. 

"  You  do  not  recognize  we — Captain  Seymour — Mrs.  Miller," 
said  Seymour  advancing  to  the  widow,  and  speaking  in  a  tone 
of  voice  expressive  of  deep  feeling. 

"  Captain  Seymour!"  exclaimed  the  widow.  "Yes,  I  recol 
lect  you  now,"  and  the  tears  gushed  to  her  eyes,  as  the  sight  of 
him  called  to  her  mind  the  loss  of  her  daughter.  "  Captain 
Seymour,"  she  continued,  "  I  exonerate  you  from  all  blame — 
this  visit  itself  would  serve  to  show  that  you  are  innocent  of 
any  harm  towards  my  poor  girl  ;  but  she  is  lost  to  me  for 
ever." 

The  party  were  conducted  by  the  widow  to  the  room  where 
our  old  acquaintance,  Miss  Herbert,  was  seated.  She  recog 
nized  readily  the  preserver  of  her  life,  and  the  young  midship 
man  of  the  G — . ,  and  warmly  welcomed  them  home. 


348  THE  CABIN  UOY'S  STORY. 

The  conversation  soon  became  general,  when  Tom  Miller  sud 
denly  thought  of  the  mystery  of  the  ring. 

"  Dear  mother,"  he  said,  "did  you  at  any  time  miss  the  ring 
you  wore,  as  a  memento  of  my  sister,  during  my  absence  ?" 

"No,  my  boy,-' replied  Mrs.  Miller;  "nor  could  I  under 
stand  the  strange  purport  of  your  letter  with  regard  to  it." 

"Nevertheless,"  said  Tom,  "  I  am  positive  that  that  very  ring 
was  sent  to  me  by  a  beautiful  girl,  who  we  discovered  residing 
in  seclusion  on  the  Island  of  Annabon,  and  who  said  she  wag 
my  sister — though  she  did  not  in  the  slightest  degree  resemble 
poor  Jane,  and  it  is  equally  as  certain  that  the  ring  was  spir 
ited  away  mysteriously  from  the  till  of  my  chest;  and  what  is 
more  singular,  I  lost  it  on  the  day  we  again  visited  the  island, 
when  not  only  the  lady  who  sent  it,  but  every  vestige  of  her 
abode  was  gone.  The  negroes  said  the  Obeah  had  spirited  her 
away,  and  desolated  the  spot."  « 

The  widow  looked  at  her  sou  with  alarm  and  anxiety  depict 
ed  in  her  countenance.  She  thought  he  was  still  laboring  un 
der  some  fearful  delusion. 

Miss  Herbert,  however,  who  had  been  listening  interestedly 
to  the  conversation,  interfered.  "  Mr.  Miller,"  she  said,  "  I  can 
account  for  the  sudden  disappearance  of  your  ring,  though  the 
mystery  surrounding  the  White  Lady  of  Annabon,  is  beyond 
my  comprehension.  If  you  recollect,  you  left  a  packet  of  let 
ters  for  me  in  the  till  of  your  chest,  the  day  I  was  leaving  the 

G .    You  were  absent,  and  I  went  to  your  chest  to  take 

out  the  package,  which  I  was  near  forgetting.  In  the  till  I 
saw  this  ring  lying  (she  took  a  ring  from  her  pocket),  and  as 
it  closely  resembled  one  that  I  possessed,  I  thought  it  was  my 
own,  which  by  some  means  had  fallen  from  my  person.  I  took 
it,  and  not  until  I  had  arrived  at  New  Orleans,  did  I  discover 
that  I  had  my  own  ring  in  my  possession.  It  is  exactly  similar, 
you  see  (and  she  took  the  second  ring  from  her  pocket),  even 
to  the  letter  J  engraved  inside,"  and  she  handed  both  rings  to 
the  young  officer.  "  You  may  think  it  strange,"  she  continued, 
"  how  the  letter  J  should  be  engraved  on  a  ring  of  mine — that 
is  to  say  if  you  conceive  it  to  be  the  initial  letter  of  my  own 
name,  which  it  is — but  my  name  is  Jeamiette  Dixou  ;  and — 
I  have  already  told  all  to  Mrs.  Miller — the  ring  was  given  me 
by  Charles  Mordant.  Unhappily,  I  am  his  \yife.  He  was  the 
cause  of  my  going  on  board  ship.  But  I  will  not  dwell  upon 
that  now.'7 

"  Pray,  favor  me  with  a  sight  of  those  rings  !"  exclaimed 


THE    CABIN    BOX'S    STuRY.  349 

Seymour;  and  having  looked  at  them,  he  continued,  "  Frank, 
Miss  Deane,  to  whom  you  introduced  me  in  New  York,  a  short 
time  since,  wears  exactly  such  a  ring  as  this." 

"  It  was  given  her  by  my  brother  William,"  replied  Frank, 
who  seemed  utterly  incapable  of  comprehending  the  drift  of  the 
conversation.  "  Miss  Deane's  name  is  Jessica,  and  William  had 
the  name  engraved  upon  it,  and  sent  it  to  her,  he  tells  me,  as  a 
gage  clamour.  There  is  some  strange  tale  depending  upon  that 
ring;  my  brother  endeavored  to  explain  it  to  me;  but,  really,  I 
could  not  understand  him." 

"  I  can  explain  that,"  said  Mrs.  Donaldson;  "  I  saw  the  ring 
on  the  finger  of  Miss  Deane.  It  was  exactly  like  one  that  I 
had  made  for  my  poor  neice,  and  a  fac  simile  of  a  ring  her 
mother,  whose  baptismal  name  was  Jane,  used  to  wear.  It 
was  through  that  ring  I  first  became  acquainted  with  Mr. 
Deane,  and  our  meeting  led  to  the  discovery  of  my  long-lost 
niece,  your  mother,  Frank." 

"It  was  a  ring,  the  very  counterpart  of  that,  that  I  gave  to 
Miss  Miller,  when  I  bade  her  farewell,  just  before  her  unac 
countable  disappearance,"  said  Seymour.  "  May  I  ask  Mrs. 
Donaldson,  where  you  had  that  ring  manufactured  ?" 

"  At  the  store  of  Mr.  • — ,  in  Boston,"  replied  Mrs.  Don 
aldson. 

"  That  was  where  I  purchased  the  ring  I  gave  Miss  Miller," 
said  Seymour. 

"  And  where  William  purchased  the  ring  he  gave  Jessica," 
said  Frank. 

"  And  Charles  Mordant  told  me  he  bought  my  ring  in  Bos 
ton,"  said  Jeannette  Dixon. 

k'  It  is  very  evident  that  the  jeweller  must  have  manufac 
tured  duplicates  of  the  ring,  probably  on  account  of  its  strange 
antique  fashion,"  said  Seymour.  "  And  "  (turning  to  Mrs. 
Donaldson),  ''you  have  said  your  neice  was  lost,  madam. 
How  and  when  ?" 

"  I  fear  she  was  drowned  in  the  Hudson,  in  the  month  of 
August,  184 — ,"  replied  Mrs.  Donaldson. 

"  In  August,  184 — "  muttered  Seymour;  "  that  was  only  a 
few  days  after  I  gave  the  ring  to  Jane,  Mrs.  Miller  "  (turning 
to.  that  lady),  "  was  there  any  thing  else  besides  the  ring,  from 
which  you  could  recognize  your  daughter  ?" 

"  Nothing,"  replied  the  widow;  "the  poor  creature's  body 
was  so  decomposed  that  it  could  not  be  recognized." 

"Then  might  it  not  have  been  the  neice  of  Mrs.  Donaldson, 


350  THE    CABIN    BOY;S    STORY. 

who  was  lost  about  that  period  ?  At  any  rate,  it  affords  some 
hope  that  poor  Miss  Miller  is  still  living." 

"  I  fear  not,  or  I  should  have  heard  of  her  ere  this,"  replied 
the  widow. 

"  All  this  doesn't  explain  how  I  got  the  ring  from  the  re 
cluse  of  Annabon,"  said  young  Miller. ' 

"  No,"  replied  Jeannette  Dixon,  "  it  does  not.  Who  she 
was,  is  still  a  mystery;  and  she  wrote  me  a  letter  as  singular 
and  inexplicable  in  its  purport  as  that  which  you  received  from 
her.  However,  she  must  have  been  possessed  of  such  a  ring, 
and  the  poor  creature,  whoever  she  was,  was  undoubtedly  in 
sane.  Pity,  too,  for  she  was  a  lovely  girl." 

"  That  she  was,  indeed,"  said  Tom. 

Seymour  was  anxious  to  arrange  his  affairs,  and  he  shortly 
afterwards  rose  to  take  his  leave,  and  Frank  and  Sarah  rose  to 
leave  with  him.  * 

After  Seymour  had  wished  the  widow  farewell,  Thomas  Mil 
ler  walked  up  to  Frank,  who  was  standing  at  the  door — 

"  Frank,"  said  he,  "  you  must  ask  me  to  Camden  to  see  your 
home.  I  should  like  to  see  your  sister  again." 

"  With  pleasure,"  replied  Frank.  "  We  shall  shortly  return 
home;  come  as  soon  as  you  can  make  it  convenient." 

And  then,  having  bade  adieu  to  Mrs.  Miller,  he  stepped  up 
to  Jeannette — 

"  Miss  Herbert,"  said  he,  "  I  will  still  call  you  by  that  name 
— we  must  not  part  for  ever  thus.  You  will  allow  me  to  see 
you  again  ?" 

Miss  Herbert  pressed  the  hand  of  the  youth  in  token  of  as 
sent,  and  walked  by  his  side  until  they  reached  the  gate  at  the 
end  of  the  garden,  when  she  returned  with  Thomas  Miller  to 
the  cottage. 

Seymour,  and  Frank  and  his  sister,  returned  to  New  York, 
and  took  up  their  quarters  at  the  Astor  House;  and,  a  few 
days  after  this  happy  meeting,  having  satisfactorily  arranged 
all  his  affairs,  the  former  sailed  for  the  Mediterranean,  and 
arrived  safely  at  Zuleika's  Isle,  at  which  place  we  left  him  just 
landed,  at  the  termination  of  a  foregoing  chapter. 

When  the  young  midshipman  returned  to  the  cottage,  the 
widow  related  to  him  the  happy  change  in  her  circumstances, 
but  she  carefully  abstained  from  saying  anything  detrimental  to 
Mr.  Mordant. 


THE    CABIN    BOY'S    STORY.  351 


CHAPTER  XXXIV. 

Seymour's  first  sight  of  his  Child — Jane  Miller  discovers  herself  to  Sey 
mour. 

"  She,  as  she  gazed  with  grateful  wonder,  pressed 
Her  '  smiling  babe1  to  her  impassioned  breast, 
And,  suited  to  her  soft  caresses,  told 
An  elder  tale  of  love — for  love  is  old — 
Old  as  eternity,  but  not  outworn 
With  each  new  being  born,  or  to  be  born. 

*  *  *  *  * 

The  sterner  spirits  who  beheld  that  meeting 
Were  not  unmoved  ;  who  are,  when  hearts  are  greeting?" 

The  Island. 

THE  reader  will  recollect  that  Zuleika  had  fainted  with  ex 
cess  of  joy  in  her  husband's  arms,  after  having  met  him  on  the 
beach  on  his  return  to  her  island  home  ;  and  he  had  borne  her 
lightly  as  though  she  were  a  child  to  her  cottage,  where  she 
soon  recovered,  for  excess  of  joy,  although  it  sometimes  over 
powers,  rarely  prostrates  the  powers  of  mind  and  body  for  long 
together,  and  on  waking  from  her  blissful  trance  and  gazing 
wildly  around  her,  as  she  passed  her  hand  across  her  brow,  as 
though  to  assure  herself  that  she  was  not  dreaming,  and  that 
her  husband  had  indeed  returned  to  her,  the  proud  young  mo 
ther  sprang  to  the  cradle  of  woven  rushes,  in  which  the  infant 
was  reposing,  and  catching  her  up  in  her  arms  and  covering 
her  with  kisses,  she  brought  her  to  Seymour,  and  with  a  bright 
smile  placed  the  baby  in  its  father's  arms. 

Seymour  received  the  infant,  and  handling  it  carefully,  as 
though  he  were  afraid  that  he  should  crush  its  tiny  frame,  he 
stooped  and  imprinted  upon  the  baby's  cheek  the  father's  first 
kiss,  and  then  restored  it  to  its  mother,  saying, 

"  'Tis  a  pretty  babe,  my  Zuleika.     How  have  you  called  it  ?" 

"  Zuleika,  as  you  bade  me  call  my  child  should  it  be  a  girl," 
answered  the  young  mother.  "  But  don't  you  think  it  re 
sembles  you  greatly,  George  ?  See,  the  nose  and  mouth  are 
yours  exactly." 

"  Are  they  ?"  replied  Seymour,  smiling.  "  Well,  maybe 
they  are,  dearest  ;  but  really,  if  you  hadn't  told  me  I  should 
never  have  discovered  it.  I  learn  for  the  first  time  that  I  have 
got  a  pug  nose — for  such  all  babies  have — and  as  to  the  mouth, 


352  THE  CABIN  BOY'S  STORY. 

I  was  not  aware  my  own  was  such  a  rosy-looking  buttonhole 
of  an  aperture." 

"  You  are  teazing  me,  George,"  said  Zuleika,  half  smiling 
and  half  inclined  to  cry,  for  she  scarcely  knew  in  what  light  to 
take  her  husband's  badinage. 

Seymour  perceived  that  she  was  annoyed  ;  and,  bending 
over  her  and  kissing  her  brow,  he  replied  : — 

"  Why,  what  a  sensitive  little  creature  you  are,  darling.  I 
was  joking.  Like  me  !  to  be  sure  she  is,  if  you  will  have  it  so 
— eyes,  nose,  mouth  and  all — and  I  shall  love  her  very  much 
because  she  is  my  own  Zuleika's  first  born " 

"But  the  eyes  are  like  mine,  George  I" 

"  Are  they  dear  ;  let  me  see.  Yes,  to  be  sure  they  are — 
exactly,  when  they  are  open,  I  dare  say  ;  but  they  are  closed 
now." 

"  And  the  contour  of  the  face " 

"  Is  yours,  too,  dear,  I  suppose — or  let  us  hope  it  will  be 
some  day  ;  for  if  the  baby  grows  up  like  her  mother,  she  will 
assuredly  be  all  that  the  proudest  father  can  desire." 

"  Then  you  are  not  displeased  that  it  is  not  a  boy,  George  ? 
I  was  afraid  that  you  might  wish  it  were  a  boy." 

"  Why  so,  my  love  ?" 

"  I  scarcely  know,"  replied  Zuleika,  looking  up,  blushing  and 
smiling  into  her  husband's  face,  "  but  I  fancied  so  sometimes, 
although  Jane  told  me  that  I  was  silly  to  do  so." 

"  Ha  1"  exclaimed  Seymour,  now  for  the  first  time  looking 
into  the  face  of  Jane  Miller — who  had  been  standing  aside, 
watching  with  delight  the  re-union  of  Seymour  and  Zuleika, 
and  at  once  recognizing  her — "  Miss  Miller  ! — Jane  !  Tell 
me,  am  I  deceived  ?  Jane  Miller  here  !  Good  God  !  How 
and  when  did  you  come  here  ?" 

A  new  idea  suddenly  darted  through  his  brairfj  as  he  intently 
scrutinized  the  features  of  the  young  woman  ;  and,  turning  to 
Zuleika,  he  added — 

"  Where  is  Henry  Davis,  dear  ?  I  had  forgotten  him.  He 
is  still  here  ?" 

And  he  looked  inquiringly  at  his  wife,  and  then  again,  half 
doubtingly,  half  satisfied,  at  Jane. 

"  Harry  Davis,  or  at  least  she  whom  you  believed  to  be 
Harry  Davis,  now  stands  before  you,  Captain  Seymour,"  re 
plied  Jane.  "  But  you  are  right,  I  am  Jane  Miller,  although 
now  for  the  first  time  since  I  took  the  ill-advised,  the  reckless, 
the  mad  step,  I  did,  when  I  engaged  on  board  the  Albatross 


THE    CABIN    BOY'iS    STGRV.  353 

in  New  York,  as  your  cabin  boy,  you  see  me  in  my  proper  at 
tire.  I  have  resolved  to  keep  up  an  improper  disguise  no 
longer,  let  the  consequences  be  what  they  may." 

Jane  fancied  that  she  had  strength  enough  to  go  through 
that  which  she  was  well  aware  would  prove  to  be  a  trying  or 
deal,  but  she  suddenly  hesitated,  stopped,  and  sinking  on  a 
sofa,  she  laid  her  head  upon  Zuleika's  shoulder  and  wept. 

"  My  mother — my  mother,"  she  sobbed  ;  "  Oh  !  Captain 
Seymour,  you  have  been  in  New  York — tell  me,  have  you  seen 
my  mother — is  she  still  living — and — does — 'does  she  ever 
speak  of  me  ?" 

"  I  have  seen  your  mother,  Miss  Miller,"  replied  Seymour. 
"  I  saw  her  but  a  day  or  two  before  I  left  New  York,  scarcely 
more  than  six  weeks  ago,  and  she  does  think  and  speak  of 
you  ;  poor  lady,  she  constantly  laments  your  loss,  and  believes 
you  to  be  dead.  But — I  really  seem  to  have  fallen  a  victim  to 
some  enchantment  —  I  can't  understand  now  what  all  this 
means — I  surely  am  not  dreaming  !"  and  he  passed  his  hand 
over  his  forehead  and  rubbed  his  eyes,  as  if  to  assure  himself 
that  he  was  awake. 

Jane  whispered  something  to  Zuleika,  while  Seymour  was 
speaking,  and  then,  rising  from  the  sofa,  she  left  the  room. 

"  Am  I  dreaming,  Zuleika  ?"  asking  Seymour,  when  she  had 
gone  ;  "  can  you  explain — what  is  the  meaning  of  tl|is  ?" 

"  Jane  has  desired  me  to  explain  that  which  she  finds  her 
self  unable  to  do,  dear  George,"  replied  Zuleika.  "  I  have 
known — since  a  very  few  weeks  after  you  left  the  cabin  boy, 
Harry,  as  you  imagined,  to  be  my  companion,  on  the  Island  of 
Annabon — that  it  was  not  Harry  the  cabin  boy,  but  a  young 
woman,  in  disguise,  you  had  left  with  me.  Listen,  George, 
and  I  will  tell  you  all  ;"  and  Zuleika  related  to  her  wondering 
husband,  the  accident  which  had  taken  place  that  led  to  the 
discovery  of  the  sex  of  her  companion,  and  the  conversation 
that  had  subsequently  ensued,  and  when  she  had  finished  the 
recital,  she  added  :  "  You  little  knew,  George,  how  really  a 
valuable  companion  you  had  found  me  ;  and  now  I  am  only 
sorry  that  she  is  resolved  to  leave  me,  perhaps,  for  ever." 

Seymour  had  gazed  upon  the  fair  features  of  the  narrator  of 
this  romantic  history,  glowing  as  they  did  with  generous  feel 
ing,  and  he  felt  how  priceless  a  treasure  he  possessed  in  her 
love — so  pure,  so  exalted,  so  innocent,  so  free  from  even  a 
thought  of  guile  ;  for  well  he  knew  that  in  the  bosom  of  one 
less  artless  and  less  innocent  than  Zuleika,  the  seeds  of  distrust 


354  THE    CABIN    Ii01"'s    STURY. 

arid  jealousy  would  have  been  immovably  sown,  and  the  future 
of  her  love  and  her  life  embittered  beyond  the  possibility  of  re 
covery,  and  when  she  added,  after  having-  concluded  the  narra 
tion — "  And  now,  dear  George,  you  wili  not  be  vexed  with 
Jane,  for  my  sake,  for  she  has  often  trembled  when  she  thought 
of  the  moment  when  her  secret  would  be  made  known  to  you,'7 
— he  replied,  kissing  the  cheek  of  the  lovely,  artless  pleader  : 

"  Angry  !  darling  !  It  is  Jane  and  you,  who  have  reason 
to  be  angry — not  I.  But  she  is  right,  dear — it  is  better  that 
she  leave  us  now  and  return  to  her  mother  ;  still,  Zuleika — I 
cannot  understand  how  I  never  recognized  her.  The  features 
I  now  perceived  are  those  of  Jane  Miller,  and  I  often  fancied 
I  recognized  a  resemblance  in  the  boy  Harry,  to  some  one  I 
knew  !  but  Harry  was  as  brown  as  a  Spaniard — and  Jane 
though  not  so  fair  as  you,  is  certainly  a  very  fair  brunette." 

Zuleika  laughed  merrily — "  I  wonder  if  I  could  so  disguise 
myself  that  you  should  not  know  me,  George,"  said  she.  "  Jane 
stained  her  skin  with  some  preparation  she  had  with  her,  and 
cut  off  her  long  dark  hair.  It  is  only  lately  that  her  skin  has 
been  so  fair,  and  her  hair  has  grown  to  its  present  length  since 
last  you  sailed  for  America." 

Jane  Miller  still  remained  absent,  and  naturally  enough,  the 
conversation  reverted  to  another  subject;  that  of  their  own 
hopes  in  the  future,  intermingled  with  brief  retrospections  of 
the  past. 

"  And  now,  George,"  said  Zuleika,  who  had  lain  the  sleep 
ing  infant  in  the  cradle  and  sat  child-like  on  her  husband's  knee, 
one  arm  thrown  around  his  neck,  and  holding  his  hand  in  her's, 
"  Now,  dear  George,  you  know  what  you  promised  me  when 
last  we  parted,  you  will  never,  never  leave  me  alone  again." 

"  Never,  dearest — at  least  never  again  for  so  long  a  time. 
For  the  present  I  shall  take  up  my  abode  here,  until  I  have 
determined  upon  some  plan  of  action.  Would  my  Zuleika  be 
glad  to  see  the  great  world  of  which  she  has  hitherto  known 
so  little?"  he  asked — parting  the  silky  hair  from  her  forehead 
with  his  fingers  as  he  spoke — and  imprinting  a  kiss  upon  the 
fair  smooth  brow. 

"  With  you  for  a  companion — yes;  or  I  would  be  happy  to 
live  always  on  this  island  if  you  would  consent  to  remain  for 
ever  with  me.  Still  I  should  like  to  visit  the  cities  I  have  read 
of,  and  to  roam  amidst  the  fair  scenes  which  have  been  ren 
dered  so  familiar  to  me  in  books.  But  only  to  visit  them, 
George,  with  you,  and  then  to  return  here  or  to  some  other  pleas- 


THE    CABIN    BOY:S    STORY.  355 

ing  solitude,  and  pass  my  days,  happy  in  your  love,  and  in 
watching  over  our  child." 

"  And,  perhaps,  other  babies  would-  come  in  time,  eh,  Zu- 
leika  ?"  said  Seymour  smiling,  and  patting  the  cheek  of  his 
blushing  "  child  wife." 

And  so  for  hours  they  sat  building  hopes  and  laying  out 
plans  for  the  future,  forgetful  of  all  else  but  themselves  and 
their  love  for  each  other.  One  had  little  but  that  to  think  of 
any  time,  for  her  young  life  had,  from  the  days  of  her  early 
childhood,  been  bound  up  in  the  love  of  Seymour  ;  but  the 
other — there  were  many  dark  shadows  in  the  past  which  still 
haunted  him,  arid  his  conscience  was  laden  with  gloomy  forebo 
dings  of  the  future — but  on  this  evening,  w,hich  reunited  him  to 
Zuleika,  all  these  gloomy  forebodings  were  forgotten,  and  he 
might  well  have  addressed  her  in  the  passionate  words  of  the 
poet  : 

"Ay,  let  me,  like  the  Ocean  patriarch,  roam, 
Or  only  know  on  land,  the  Tartar  home  ; 
My  tent  on  shore,  my  galley  on  the  sea, 
Are  more  than  cities  and  Serais  to  me  ; 
Borne  by  my  steed,  or  wafted  by  my  sail 
Across  the  desert,  or  before  the  gale. 
Bound  where  thou  wilt,  my  barb,  or  glide  my  prow, 
But  be  the  star  that  guides  the  wanderer,  thou. 
Thou,  my  Zuleika,  'share  and  bless  my  bark — 
The  dove  of  peace  and  promise  to  my  ark  ! 
Or  since  that  hope  denied  in  worlds  of  strife, 
Be  thou  the  rainbow  to  the  storms  of  life, 
The  evening  beam  that  smiles  the  clouds  away, 
And  tints  to-morrow  with  prophetic  ray !" 

And  still  they  sat  holding  loving  converse  until  the  midnight 
hour  had  flown  by.  These  were  amongst  the  happiest  and 
purest  hours  that  Seymour  had  known.  The  full  moon,  which 
in  that  clear  atmosphere  appears  to  float  like  a  ball  of  silvery 
flame  midway  in  the  heavens,  shed  a  halo  of  softly  tempered 
light  into  the  little  room  in  which  the  husband  and  wife  were 
seated,  and  they  spoke  in  low  murmurs,  yet  strangely  distinct 
amidst  the  silence  that  reigned  around;  for,  save  themselves 
and  perchance  Jane  Miller,  who  still  occupied  her  own  cham 
ber,  all  on  the  island  were  wrapped  in  slumber.  The 
breeze  of  the  early  evening,  which  had  wafted  the  felucca  of 
Seymour  to  the  shore,  light  as  it  had  been,  had  died  away,  and 
a  profound  stillness  prevailed,  only  broken  by  the  whispers  and 
low  murmurs  of  the  loving  and  reunited  pair,  and  the  song  of 


356  THE   CACIN   BOY'S 

a  nightingale  which  had  perched  itself  in  a  tree  close  by,  and 
thence  was  pouring  forth  an  occasional  melody  to  cheer  his 
partner  as  she  sat  patiently  nestling  over  her  young  brood, 
while  the  wild  mournful  wail  of  the  surf  which  beat  incessantly 
upon  a  line  of  rocky  coast,  a  mile  or  two  distant  from  the  cot 
tage,  served  only  to  render  the  silence  of  the  hour  more  sol 
emnly  impressive. 

At  length  Zuleika,  weary  with  watching,  with  soft  whispers 
of  love  yet  trembling  upon  her  lips,  dropped  her  head  upon  her 
husband's  bosom,  and,  still  sitting  on  his  knee,  fell  sound  asleep; 
and  then  Seymour  rose  up  and  gently  carried  her  to  a  couch 
and  laid  her  down,  and  feeling  himself  that  he  needed  rest  (for 
he  had  travelled  fast  and  far,  with  little  delay,  to  hurry  to  his 
bride),  he  laid  him  down  gently  by  her  side,  and  kissing  her 
slightly  parted  lips,  which  murmured  his  name  in  response  to 
the  embrace,  he,  too,  was  soon  asleep. 

Morning  dawned  over  Zuleika's  Isle — another  day  of  jubilee 
to  the  simple  islanders,  for  the  lord  of  the  isle  had  returned 
from  far-off  lands,  across  the  wide  ocean,  and  this  was  a  fitting 
occasion  for  a  people,  so  fond  of  innocent  amusements  as  the 
unsophisticated  Greeks  of  the  isles,  to  keep  holiday. 

And  Seymour  and  his  bride  went  amongst  them  and  distri 
buted  gifts,  and  joined  cheerfully  in  their  games,  until  the  morn 
ing  grew  late,  and  the  rays  of  the  sun  shone  too  ardently,  when 
they  returned  to  the  cottage,  and  Zuleika  sought  the  chamber 
of  her  companion,  and  soon  returned  with  a  message  to  her 
husband  from  Jane  Miller,  asking  him  to  grant  her  a  private 
interview,  and  Seymour,  who  had  been  expecting  this,  imme 
diately  joined  Jane  in  the  garden  behind  the  cottage. 

It  were  needless  for  us  to  repeat  conversation,  the  purport  of 
which  the  reader,  who  has  followed  us  through  our  story,  will 
readily  surmise;  but  we  will  listen  in  imagination  to  the  con 
cluding  portion  of  the  conversation. 

"  That  I  was  wrong,  dear  Jane,  in  encouraging  hopes  that  I 
knew  would  never  be  realized,  I  freely  confess.  I  might  have 
known,  perhaps  I  did  know,  that  I  was  encouraging  a  belief  in 
your  mind  that  I  loved  you,  and  would  one  day  claim  you  as 
my  bride;  but  I  meant  no  harm.  I  fled  from  the  persecution 
of  the  host  of  insipid,  frivolous  creatures,  who  harassed  and 
annoyed  me,  and  sought  your  company  because  I  found  that 
you  had  more  sense  than  all  of  them  put  together,  and  partly — 
pardon  me  for  telling  you  this— because  I  saw  that  they  slighted 
you;  treated  you  with  scorn  and  contumely  because  they  had 


THE  CABIN  BOY'S  STORY.  357 

more  money  and  wore  more  diamonds  in  their  hair  and  more 
jewelry  than  you  could  afford  to  do.  I  resolved  to  let  them 
perceive  that,  gallant,  and  ladies'  man  as  they  thought  me,  I 
had  the  wisdom  at  least  to  prefer  good  sense  to  frivolity,  and 
simple,  natural  beauty  and  intelligence  to  cosmetics  and  paint, 
and  tinsel  adornments.  Perhaps — but' no  matter,  it  was  oth 
erwise  decreed,  and  it  was  too  late.  I  grieve  that  I  should  have 
been  the  cause  of  your  taking  so  startling,  so  bold  a  step  as  you 
did.  Pardon  me,  Jane,  but  I  should  have  given  you  credit  for 
better  sense.  I  will  speak  plainly  with  you.  I  acknowledge 
I  was  wrong,  very  wrong.  But  hesitate  not  to  return  to  your 
mother;  she  will  receive  you  with  tears  of  joy,  and  what  need 
you  to  care  for  any  one  else — least  of  all  for  those  butterflies 
of  fashion,  among  whom  I  first  met  you.  Jane,  I  know  enough 
of  your  uncle  Mordant  to  enable  me  to  assert  that  he  and  his 
are  far,  far  below  you  and  yours,  in  all  that  constitutes  moral 
worth,  aye,  and  social  position,  too,  and  the  world  would  say 
this  if  it  knew  all." 

He  ceased  to  speak,  and  Jane  remained  silent  for  some  min 
utes.  At  length  she  said  : 

"  You  say,  too,  you  met  my  brother.  Did  he — did  Tom 
mention  his  sister's  name  ?" 

"He  did,  and  looked  fiercely  enough  at  me  when  I  was  first 
introduced  to  him  in  the  cars  on  my  way  from  Boston  to  New 
York.  Jane,  your  brother  will  be  as  much  delighted  as  your 
mother  to  greet  again  his  long  lost  sister.  By-the-by,  that  re 
minds  me  of  a  strange  mystery  which,  perhaps,  you  can  explain. 
Your  brother  now  holds  a  midshipman's  appointment  in  the 
United  States  navy ;  and  some  time  since  he  was  on  the  Afri 
can  coast  on  board  the  G frigate,  which  vessel,  it  ap 
pears,  called  at  Annabon,  and  the  captain,  accompanied  by  your 
brother,  visited  the  island,  and  saw  Zuleika.  Surely  you  must 
nave  recognised  your  brother  ?  " 

"  I  did." 

"Then  why  did  you  not  make  yourself  known  to  him  ?" 

"  Pride,  shame — a  singular  admixture  of  contrary  feelings 
forbade  me  to  do  so." 

"And  he— how  was  it  that  he  did  not  recognize  you  ?  " 

"  He  was  so  much  engaged  with  Zuleika,  that  he  scarcely 
cast  his  eyes  upon  rne  ;  besides,  I  was  dressed  as  a  sailor 
boy.  It  was  improbable,  even  had  he  regarded  me,  th'at 
he  would  have  recognized  his  sister  in  me." 

"Jane,"  said   Seymour,   after  a  few  moments  silence,  "I 


358  THE    CABIN    BOY'S    STORY. 

gave  you  a  ring — a  ring  of  singular  and  antique  appearance — 
a  few  days  before  we  parted  from  New  York  ;  have  you  that 
ring  now  ?" 

"  No  ;  why  do  you  ask  ?" 

"  I  have  my  reasons  ;  but  I  will  not  press  you  to  tell 
me  what  became  of  it,  if  you  desire  not  to  do  so." 

For  a  few  moments  the  young  woman  was  silent,  at  length 
she  said  : — 

"  Captain  Seymour,  I  sent  that  ring  to  my  brother.  Why 
should  I  not  tell  you  all  ?  I  felt  deeply  because  my  brother 
did  not  recognize  me,  although  I  hoped,  at  the  same  time,  that 
he  would  not  ;  and  when  I  saw  his  retreating  form  as  he  was 
leaving  the  cottage  at  Annabon  to  return  on  board  the 
ship — for  I  was  watching  him  from  another  room  of  our  lit 
tle  cottage — I  sent  for  Zuleika,  and  told .  her  that  I  had 
recognized  a  friend  in  one  of  the  strangers,  and  begged  her 
to  detain  the  party  for  some  few  minutes  until  I  had  written 
a  letter  which  I  wished  to  send  on  board  the  ship.  There  was 
a  female  with  the  strangers,  and  upon  one  of  her  fin 
gers  I  noticed  a  ring  exactly  similar  to  that  which  you  had 
given  me." 

She  hesitated  a  moment,  and  then  continued — 

"  Captain  Seymour,  1  know  not  if  I  wrong  you,  but  I 
thought  her  another  victim  to  your  deceitful  wiles.  1  resolved 
to  write  to  my  brother  and  to  her — and  I  did  write,  and 
Zuleika  gave  the  letters  to  the  young  woman,  to  be  read  when 
they  got  on  board  the  frigate.  I  was  nearly  mad  with 
excitement,  and  scarcely  knew  what  I  wrote  ;  but  I  sent  the 
ring  you  gave  me  to  my  brother,  and  gave  him  to  understand, 
in  ambiguous  language,  that  his  sister  had  seen  him.  I  also 
warned  the  young  female  of  the  deceitful  part  that  1  believed 
you  were  acting.  But,"  she  added,  "  why  am  I  telling  this  to 
you  ?  How  can  it  concern  you  ?" 

"  It  does  concern  me,  Miss  Miller,  inasmuch  as  you  have 
explained  a  mystery  which  I  could  not  otherwise  have  solved. 
In  the  first  place  I  tell  you  solemnly,  that  I  did  not  give  the 
ring  you  speak  of  to  the  young  lady  whom  I  met  at  your 
mother's  cottage  in  New  Jersey  Again,  your  mother  wears 
a  ring  exactly  similar  to  that  which  I  gave  you,  which  was 
taken  from  the  person  of  a  female  who  was  found  drowned  in 
the*  river  shortly  after  your  disappearance  from  home.  The 
body  had  been  so  long  in  the  water  that  the  features  could  not 
be  recognized  ;  but  your  mother  recognized  what  she  believed 


THE    CABIN    BOY'S    STORY.  359 

to  be  the  ring  you  had  worn.  She  claimed  the  body  as  that 
of  her  daughter  and  had  it  decently  interred,  and  she  wears 
the  ring  in  remembrance  of  you.  It  was  that  discovery  which 
led  her  to  believe  that  you  were  dead.  Jane,  your  mother 
believes  that  you  committed  suicide,  and  she  did  believe  that  I 
was  the  cause  of  your  committing  the  dreadful  deed." 

"  My  poor,  poor  mother  !"  said  Jane,  "  how  she  must  have 
suffered  through  my  foolish — my  insane  imprudence;  but  the 
rings,  Captain  Seymour  ;  how  came  the  rings,  so  much  alike, 
to  be  so  widely  distributed  ?" 

"  The  jeweller  of  whom  they  were  purchased  in  Boston,  by 
different  persons,  of  course,  had  several  of  a  similar  make, 
although  he  professed  to  have  but  one,  and  obtained  a  high 
price  for  them  all,  in  consequence  of  their  singular  and  antique 
appearance.  A  series  of  remarkable  coincidences  has 
brought  the  wearers,  at  different  times,  together,  and  led  to 
many  strange  and  startling  incidents,  which  it  is  unnecessary 
for  me  to  speak  of  now.  Your  brother,  however,"  and  Cap 
tain  Seymour  smiled  as  he  spoke,  "  your  brother  believed  that 
the  Island  of  Annabon  was  enchanted,  and  that  Zuleika 
was  an  African  Ariel,  and  that  the  ring  was  spirited  away 
from  him,  until  Miss  Herbert  (that  was  the  name  of  the 
lady  who  visited  the  island  with  Captain  P ,  and  your  bro 
ther)  informed  him  that  she  had  taken  the  ring  from  the  till 

of  his  chest,  when  about  leaving  the  G to  return  to  New 

York — believing  it,  at  the  time,  to  have  been  her  own." 

"  My  dear  brother  !"  said  Jane,  "  no  wonder  he  was  mysti 
fied  ;  for  I  was  in  such  a  state  of  excitement  that  I  daresay 
the  letters  I  wrote  seemed  to  have  been  written  by  a 
maniac." 

"  That  was  what  Miss  Herbert  thought,"  replied  Seymour, 
:<  but  she  and  your  brother  were  mystified  by  the  evident 
knowledge  you  had  of  their  family  affairs,  though  your 
remarks  were  mixed  up  with  so  much  that  was  contradictory 
and  absurd.  However,  to  increase  the  puzzle,  they  believed 
the  letters  to  have  been  written  by  Zuleika,  and  your  brother 
indignantly  denied  that  she  was  his  sister  ;  unless,  indeed,  as  I 
before  hinted,  she  was  under  the  power  of  enchantment. 
Neither,  until  I  recognized  you  yesterday,  could  I  understand 
anything  of  the  matter.  It  was  as  great  a  mystery  to  me,  as 
to  the  rest,  when  I  heard  in  your  mother's  house,  from  the  lips 
of  your  brother  and  Miss  Herbert,  that  Zuleika,  as  they 
asserted,  had  been  guilty  of  such  mischievous  and  strange 


360  THE  CABIN  DOT'S  STORY. 

pranks — for  I  had  no  suspicion  that  Harry  Davis  was  my  old 
acquaintance,  Jane  Miller." 

Sad  and  heavy  as  was  the  heart  of  Jane,  she  could  not  for 
bear  smiling  as  she  listened  to  the  mystifications  which  her  let 
ters  had  given  rise  to. 

Seymour  proceeded  : 

"  You  will  now  wish  to  leave  us,  Miss  Miller.  I  shall  in  a 
few  months,  perhaps  in  the  course  of  a  few  weeks,  leave  this 
place  with  Zuleika  ;  I  intend  to  travel  on  the  European  Conti 
nent;  until  then,  stay  with  us — write  to  your  mother  in  the 
meantime,  and  when  Zuleika  and  I  leave  the  island,  you  shall 
accompany  us  to  France,  and  I  will  thence  procure  you  a  pas 
sage  to  New  York." 

"  I  thank  you;  perhaps  it  is  better  that  I  should  wait,  than 
leave  immediately — I  long,  oh,  how  much  1  to  see  my  mother 
and  brother  again,  and  yet  I  dread  the  ordeal  of  curiosity,  per 
haps  scorn  and  contempt,  that  I  must  pass  through." 

"  You  should  not  let  that  fancy  trouble  your  mind," 
replied  Seymour.  "  Believe  me,  you  will  meet  with  a  happj 
reception  at  home.  Why  need  you  care  what  strangers  think 
or  say  ?  At  all  events  those  whose  praise  or  censure  is  alone 
worth  a  thought,  will  pity  rather  than  condemn." 

"  Oh,  pity  I  that  were  worse  than  all  ;  I  could  endure  scorn 
and  contempt  because  I  could  meet  those  who  looked  upon  me 
with  those  feelings,  with  their  own  weapons  ;  but  pity  !  no,  I 
could  not  endure  pity." 

"  You  are  excited,  Miss  Miller,"  said  Seymour  ;  "  you  dis 
tress  yourself  more  than  there  is  occasion  for.  I  will  leave 
you  and  return  to  Zuleika,  who  will  be  expecting  me  and  won 
dering  what  it  is  that  keeps  me  so  long  absent  from  her. 
Compose  yourself — and  then  let  me  beg  of  you  to  join  us — I 
am  going  to  take  Zuleika  out  on  the  bay  in  the  felucca." 

Seymour  returned  to  the  cottage  and  joined  Zuleika,  who, 
as  he  had  expected,  was  wondering  what  so  long  detained  him 
from  her  side.  She  was  nursing  her  infant,  whom,  with  a  mo 
ther's  pride,  she  had  attired  in  its  gayest  clothing,  and  the  lit 
tle  cceature  was  jumping  and  kicking,  and  crowing  and  throw 
ing  its  little  fat  arms  about,  in  all  the  exuberance  of  infantile 
delight,  and  she  smiled  upon  her  father  as  he  entered  the  room. 
"  Does  she  not  look  pretty,  George  ?"  asked  Zuleika.  "  Now 
see,  as  she  smiles,  is  she  not  like  you.  She  certainly  is  the  very 
best  and  prettiest  baby  in  the  world." 

"  Then  of  course  she  must  bo  like  her  father,  dear,"  smiling- 


THE  CABIN  BOY'S  STORY.  361 

ly  replied  Seymour.  "  Certainly  if  you  think  she  is,  I  am  in 
duty  bound  to  think  so  too,"  and  he  took  the  infant  in  his 
arms  and  danced  it  up  and  down  for  some  minutes  until  the 
little  creature  began  to  cry  and  to  hold  out  its  arms  towards 
its  mother.  "  There  take  your  baby,  Zuleika,"  said  Seymour, 
as,  kissing  the  infant's  brow,  he  placed  it  in  her  lap,  and  then, 
seating  himself  beside  her,  bestowed  a  still  fonder  embrace 
upon  her. 

"  Where  have  you  been  wandering  so  long  this  morning, 
George  ?"  enquired  Zuleika,  and  Seymour  related  to  her  the 
conversation  that  had  passed  between  him  and  Jane  Miller. 

"  Poor  thing  I"  said  Zuleika,  pityingly,  when  he  had  con 
cluded  his  narration.  "  Her's  is  a  hard  fate.  It  must  be  a 
dreadful  thing  to  love  and  not  be  loved  again,  above  all,  when 
the  affections  are  fixed  on  one,  so  noble,  so  true  as  you,  dear 
George."  And  she  rested  her  hand  upon  her  husband's  shoul 
der  and  gazed  earnestly  into  his  face,  her  dark  eyes  beaming 
with  love  and  pride.  An  ice  bolt  seemed  to  pierce  the  heart 
of  Seymour — "  so  noble  and  true"  he  mentally  exclaimed. 
"  Oh  Zuleika,  may  the  fates  never  allow  your  innocent  soul  to 
be  disabused  of  that  impression— would  to  God  that  a  happier 
destiny,  or  I  should  say,  rather,  a  less  impetuous  temper  and  a 
less  obstinate  will  had  been  bestowed  on  me,  and  then,  with 
your  love  to  be  my  guiding  star,  I  might  have  been  all  you 
believe  me  to  be." 

"  You  look  pale  and  dull,  dear,"  said  Zuleika,  noticing  the 
gloom  that  had  cast  its  shadow  over  her  husband's  handsome 
features,  "  are  you  not  well  ?"  "  Yes,  quite  well,  darling,"  he 
replied  with  forced  gaiety,  "  come  let  the  nurse  put  baby  to 
sleep — and  then  we  will  seek  Jane  and  take  a  sail  on  the  bay." 

"  Oh,  that  will  be  delightful,"  replied  Zuleika,  as,  calling  the 
nurse,  she  resigned  the  infant  to  her  charge,  and  hastened  to 
prepare  herself  for  the  sail. 

*  #  *  #  *  * 

There  were  others  who  had  witnessed  the  meeting  of  Sey 
mour  and  Zuleika,  besides  those  of  the  household,  whom  we 
have  named.  Marca,  now  a  privileged  visitor  of  the  nurse, 
Julia,  had  gazed  upon  the  scene,  and  her  aged  and  seared 
heart  had  softened  as  she  witnessed  the  tenderness  with  which 
Seymour  embraced  his  wife  and  child,  and  the  mingled  feelings 
of  love  and  pride  and  devotion  with  which  the  young  wife  and 
mother  had  presented  the  infant  to  its  father,  and  then,  like  a 
simple,  trusting  child,  had  seated  herself  upon  his  knee,  cling- 

16 


362  THE    CABIN    BOY'S    STORY. 

ing  to  him,  as  to  her  every  hope  and  stay,  and  twining  her 
arms  around  him  as  the  vine  entwines  its  tendrils  around  the 
sturdy  oak — and  she,  had  she  been  left  to  herself,  would  have 
foregone  her  plans  of  vengeance  upon  the  devoted  offspring  of 
the  hated  Vicenzo  ;  but  there  was  still  another,  who,  unseen 
herself,  had  seen  this  happy  meeting,  and  she  had  felt  all  her 
evil  passions  the  more  strongly  aroused  as  she  witnessed  the 
ebullitions  of  love  that  cruel  fate  had  debarred  her  from  in 
dulging  in.  Her  heart  was  ardent  as  the  sun  that  shines  o'er 
her  native  isles.  She  could  have  loved  with  a  passion  that 
would  have  devoured  itself  with  its  own  intensity.  Her  love 
would  have  resembled  that  of  the  tigress  for  its  young — it  did 
resemble  it  so  far  as  regarded  her  own  son  Abdallah  ;  but  it 
was  a  love  to  shrink  from  and  to  be  dreaded — for  it  would  have 
been  fraught  with  danger  to  its  object.  The  boiling  lava,  in 
the  heart  of  Vesuvius,  clothes  with  everlasting  fertility  the 
glowing  mountain-side  ;  but  who  knows  the  moment  when  the 
volcano  will  break  forth  in  fury,  and  spread  devastation  and 
ruin  upon  all  that  it  has  fostered  and  nurtured  with  its  pre 
vious  kindly  warmth  ;  and  her  hate  !  her  hate  was  akin  to  her 
love  !  It  knew  no  softening  ;  it  yielded  to  no  emotions  of 
pity  ;  it  burned  with  the  fury  of  the  fire  of  Hades  in  her  bo 
som,  consuming  herself  and  all  upon  whom  she  bestowed  it. 

The  two  women — mother  and  daughter,  met  at  a  late  hour 
of  the  evening,  upon  the  seashore — and,  at  the  moment  when 
Zuleika  was  seated  in  child-like  confidence,  upon  her  husband's 
knee,  forgetful  of  the  sorrows  of  the  past — hopeful  of  the  joys 
that  fancy,  aided  by  love,  depicted  in  the  future  ;  a  plot  was 
maturing  which  was  to  doom  that  young,  trusting  heart  to  sor 
row,  to  despair,  to ;  but  we  will  not  anticipate.  Enough, 

is  it  not  enough  for  us  to  say  at  present  that  Zoe  had  sent  to 
her  son  Abdallah,  and  he  was  shortly  to  meet  her  at  Lemnos, 
and  then  she  hoped  for  the  successful  consummation  of  a  plot 
which  she  had  arranged,  which  should  serve  alike  to  satiate  her 
vengeance,  and  to  place  her  discarded  son  in  the  position  she 
deemed  it  right  he  should  occupy. 

"  And  you  are  resolved,  then,  Zoe,"  said  Marca,  as  they  were 
about  to  part  :  "  the  sight  of  the  young,  innocent  mother,  so 
happy  to  be  reunited  to  her  husband — so  proud  of  the  babe 
she  has  borne  him,  has  not  had  power  to  stay  your  designs  ?" 

"  Never,  never,"  replied  Zoe,  firmly  ;  "  it  has  but  added 
fresh  fuel  to  my  hatred.  It  is  useless  to  think  to  turn  me  from 
the  path  I  have  marked  out.  You  are  old  and  doited,  mother: 


THE    CABIN    BOY'S    STORY.  363 

age  lias  chilled  the  once  hot  blood  in  your  veins,  and  you  have 
ceased  to  feel  the  craving  for  vengeance." 

So  saying,  without  deigning  to  listen  to  the  ancient  sybil, 
who  again  essayed  to  speak,  Zoe  turned  haughtily  away,  and 
guided  by  the  pure,  soft  light  of  the  moon,  sought  the  cave 
where  she  made  her  home,  when  on  Zuleika's  Isle  ;  while  Mai- 
ca,  muttering  to  herself  as  she  walked  along,  retired  to  the  hut 
a  short  distance  from  Seymour's  cottage,  in  which  she  had  of 
late  taken  up  her  abode. 


CHAPTER    XXXV. 

Marie   makes  her  Escape    from    her   Guardian,   and   is  Rescued    by 
Captain  de  Sylva. 

THE  anger  and  vexation  of  Mr.  Wilson,  when  he  found  that 
all  his  interested  hopes  were  frustrated  by  the  unfortunate  dis 
covery  of  the  marriage  of  Charles  Mordant  with  Jeannette 
Dixon,  knew  no. bounds;  but  upon  the  unfortunate  Marie  was 
it  chiefly  visited. 

The  poor  girl  was  closely  confined  to  her  room  for  several 
days,  her  meals  being  brought  to  her  by  her  uncle — who  never 
deigned  to  speak  to  her — and  she  began  to  fear  that  her  rea 
son  was  tottering.  There  seemed  to  be  no  hope  left  to  her, 
for  no  answer  was  returned  by  Mr.  Wilsou  to  her  repeated  re 
quests  that  he  would  allow  her  to  leave  his  house,  and  endea 
vor  to  earn  her  own  living  by  making  use  of  the  various  ac 
complishments  she  was  mistress  of.  He  seemed  resolved  to 
drive  her  to  insanity. 

One  day,  however,  he  came  to  her  apartment.  There  was  a 
sterner  expression  than  usual  on  his  always  stern  countenance, 
and  although  Marie  was  possessed  of  considerable  spirit,  she 
was  so  prostrated  by  the  effects  of  the  solitary  confinement  to 
which  she  had  been  subjected,  that  she  quailed  before  her  jailor, 
and,  without  speaking  a  word,  sat  tremblingly  waiting  to  hear 
what  had  led  him  to  pay  her  this  unexpected  visit. 

"  Marie,"  said  Mr.  Wilson,  after  having  sat  for  some  time  in 
silence,  "  you  have  given  me  such  sufficient  proof  of  your  ob 
stinacy  and  determination  to  oppose  my  reasonable  desires  to 
benefit  you  as  well  as  myself,  that  it  must  be  evident  to  you 
that  T  can  have  no  further  desire  to  raise  you  from  the  position 


364  THE  CABIN  BOY'S  STORY. 

in  which  your  unfortunate  birth  has  placed  you.  I  have  told 
you — you  have  compelled  nie  to  do  so — that  you  are  my  slave. 
Actuated  by  feelings  of  pity  for  your  youth,  and  your  igno 
rance  of  the  secret  of  your  birth,  in  which  ignorance  you  have 
been  educated  by  the  ill-judged  partiality  of  my  brother.  I  would 
have  hidden  your  degradation  from  you,  and  have  wedded  you 
to  a  worthy  young  man,  and  to  myself  alone  would  the  secret 
of  your  birth  have  been  known.  By  your  delay — your  obsti 
nacy,  you  have  rendered  this  marriage  impracticable — impos 
sible  ;  and  you  cannot  deny  that  you  have  brought  upon  your 
own  head  the  fate  that  awaits  you " 

"  The  fate  that  awaits  me,  uncle  !  What  can  you  mean  ?" 
exclaimed  the  poor  girl,  in  a  terrified  tone  of  voice.  "  Surely 
you  would  not  have  wished  to  have  seen  me  wedded  to  a  man 
like  that  vile  Mr.  Mordant — a  man  who  has  already  been  mar 
ried.  Good  God!  utter,  everlasting  misery  had  been  mine, 
had  I  unhappily  became  his  wife." 

"And  who,  girl,  would  have  known  that  he  had  been  vilely 
entrapped  into  marriage  by  that  wretched  woman  who  I  fool 
ishly  engaged  as  your  governess,  had  not  your  own  obstinacy 
brought  about  a  denouement,  which  you  will  suffer  for  as  long 
as  you  live." 

"  Would  the  crime  have  been  less  in  the  eyes  of  the  world, 
would  my  misery  have  been  less,"  answered  Marie,  "if  at  some 
future  day  I  had  discovered  the  dreadful  secret  ?  No,  uncle,  do 
what  you  will  with  me;  alas!  I  cannot  help  myself;  but  I  shall 
ever  be  thankful  that  a  fortunate  chain  of  circumstances  has 
led  to  the  discovery  which  has  saved  me  from  becoming  the 
wife  of  a  villain." 

"  Be  it  so,  poor  girl,"  said  Mr.  Wilson,  his  passion  now  tho 
roughly  aroused,  "you  have  said  enough;  I  would  have  saved 
you;  you  have  chosen  your  own  path.  My  own  interests  will 
not  suffer  me  to  dally  with  you  any  longer.  To-rnorrow  Mr. 
Howell  will  be  here  ;  he  has  purchased  several  of  my  field 
hands,  and  will  take  them  with  him  to  Texas,  where  he  has 
purchased  a  large  plantation.  Howell  has  often  expressed  his 
admiration  of  you.  He  will  take  you  with  him  to  superintend 
his  household;  in  fact,  to  be  to  all  intents  and  purposes — his — 
his  wife.  He  has  paid  a  large  sum  of  money  for  you,  which 
will  help  partially  to  renumerate  me  for  the  expense  to  which 
I  have  been  subjected  in  educating  and  fitting  you  to  shine  in 
a  sphere  from  which  you  have  wantonly  shut  yourself  out.  It 
now  depends  upon  yourself  whether  you  will  be  happy  or  not. 


THE  CABIN  BOY's  STORY.  365 

Howell  is  a  good,  clever  man,  and,  if  you  behave  well,  will 
treat  you  well;  but,  hear  me,  girl  ;  if  you  show  the  airs  you 
have  hitherto  done — twelve  months  hence  you  will  be  picking 
cotton  among  the  field  hands  on  his  plantation.  Howell  is  not 
a  man  to  be  trifled  with." 

The  planter  was  proceeding  with  his  advice,  when,  looking  at 
the  fragile  object  of  his  persecution,  he  observed  that  she  had 
swooned  away,  and  rising  from  his  seat,  he  left  the  room,  and 
sent  a  negress  attendant  to  wait  upon  her,  and  endeavor  to 
recover  her. 

The  man  Howell,  to  whom  Wilson  had  sold  Marie,  was  a 
coarse  grained,  brutal  wretch,  who  had  often  visited  Mr.  Wil 
son's  plantation,  and  had  frequently  expressed  his  sensual  ad 
miration  of  Marie;  he  was  held  in  detestation  and  terror  by 
both  her  and  her  sister  Louise.  She  would  have  preferred 
death — a  thousand  deaths — rather  than  have  fallen  into  his 
hands. 

The  negress  entered  the  room,  and  applying  burnt  feathers 
and  all  the  various  appliances  supposed  from  time  to  time  to  be 
efficacious  in  cases  of  fainting,  she  soon  restored  the  poor  girl 
to  her  senses,  and  a  violent  flood  of  tears  happily  came  to  her 
relief,  or  probably  her  brain  would  have  given  way  beneath  the 
pressure  of  her  distress.  The  negress  had  been  an  old  servant 
of  her  father's,  and  had  attended  upon  the  young  ladies  from  the 
period  of  their  earliest  infancy,  until  she  with  them  was  trans 
ferred  to  Mr.  Wilson,  on  the  death  of  his  brother.  She  was  ac 
quainted  with  the  dark  secret  of  Marie's  birth,  but  knowing  that 
her  father  had  made  no  difference  with  regard  to  the  treatment 
of  his  children,  she  had  been  taught  to  treat  them  both  with 
equal  respect,  and  had  become  strongly  attached  to  them. 

"Cry,  Missey,  cry,"  said  she  ;  "dem  tears  will  do  you  a 
mighty  deal  o'  good.  I  know  what  Massa  Wilson  be  a  gwine 
to  do  with  you.  Lor  bress  your  pretty  face,  it  is  a  mortal 
shame.  If  you  was  a  brack  nigger  it  would  be  different;  but 
to  sell  you  to  dat  villain,  Massa  Howell — golly  !  it  is  too  bad. 
S'pose  your  poor  fader  seed  it,  he  would  jump  up  from  his 
grave,  and  haunt  Massa  Wilson — it  is  a  shame,  Missey  Marie," 
and  the  poor-negress  began  to  weep  in  sympathy. 

"  You  cannot  aid  me,  good  Laura,"  said  Marie,  "  but  I  know 
you  are  sorry  for  me.  Cannot  you  let  my  sister  Louise  come 
to  me  r 

"  Oh  Missey,  s'pose  Massa  Wilson  know'd  dat,  he  would 
kick  up  a  fine  bobbery,  and  sell  me  right  off.  Oh,  he  is  a 


36G 

dreadful  man  when  him  blood  is  up.  He  say  dat  no  pussen 
mus'  see  you  but  me  till  Massa  Howell  comes  to-morrow." 

"  Then  God  alone  can  help  me,"  said  Marie,  again  showing 
symptoms  of  fainting. 

"  Poor  child!"  said  the  compassionate  negress,  "  it  be  a  mor 
tal  shame — golly!  let  Massa  do  what  he  likes,  I  will  let  Missey 
Louise  come  up — golly!  I  will.  Come,  cheer  up,  Missey  Marie," 
she  continued,  addressing  the  half  unconscious  girl.  "  Missey 
Louise  is  crying  to  see  you  dese  tree  days,  an'  I  will  send  her 
to  you  spite  ob  ole  Massa  Wilson — de  ole  toad!"  and  the  ne 
gress  ground  her  teeth  as  she  spoke,  and  immediately  leaving 
the  room,  went  in  search  of  Louise. 

In  the  course  of  a  few  minutes,  the  younger  sister  entered 
the  room,  and  throwing  herself  into  Marie's  arms,  she  said. 

"  My  dear  sister,  I  know  all;  I  would  have  come  to  you  be 
fore,  but  I  could  not.  Oh,  Marie,  what  will  become  of  you  ? 
—and  I — I  shall  die  when  you  are  gone  away  and  are  deliv 
ered,  over  to  such  a  fate!  I  shudder  to  think  of  it.  I  wish 
uncle  Wilson  and  Mr.  Howell  would  both  die  to-night,  right  off, 
I'm  sure  I  do — and  then,  Marie,  you  should'nt  be  taken  away. 
We'd  both  live  together  always." 

Marie  locked  her  sister  in  her  embrace,  and  for  several  min 
utes  the  two  girls  mingled  their  tears  together.  At  length  Marie 
composed  herself.  She  felt  that  now  was  the  hour  for  action,  or 
else  all  was  lost. 

"  Louise,"  said  she,  "  I  will  die  sooner  than  suffer  myself  to 
be  carried  away  by  that  wretch,  Howell;  I  will  escape  from  this 
house  to-night,  if  you  will  aid  me.  You,  dear  Louise,  can  ob 
tain  the  keys  for  me,  and  when  uncle  has  retired,  I  will  go 
forth  ;  the  cold  charity  of  the  streets  were  preferable  to  this 
abode." 

"  But,  Marie,  darling,  you  will  be  missed  and  captured;  and 
then  a  worse  fate  will  await  you  than  that  which  now 
threatens  you." 

"  Captured  !  never  alive  !"  passionately  exclaimed  Marie  ; 
and,  as  she  spoke,  she  drew  a  knife  from  her  bosom :  "I  have 
resolved  rather  to  die,  Louise,  than  to  fall  into  the  hands  of 
that  detestable  man  ;  if  you  can  get  me  the  keys,  do:  if  not, 
to-morrow  morning  shall  see  me  a  corpse — nay,  give  the  alarm, 
and  I  will  kill  myself  before  your  eyes." 

"  /  give  the  alarm  !./  betray  you,  Marie  !"  said  Louise, 
"  never  ;  I  would  myself  sooner  die  than  become  the  mistress 
of  Howell.  I  will  get  you  the  keys,  Marie,  at  any  risk,  if  I 


THE    CABIN    BOY'S    STORY.  36? 

can  ;  and,  my  clear  sister,  God  bless  and  save  you.  I  must  go 
now,  for  uncle  will  be  calling  for  me  at  eight  o'clock  ;"  and, 
clasping  her  sister  in  her  embrace,  and  bestowing  upon  her  a 
score  of  kisses,  which  were  passionately  returned,  she  left  the 
room. 

The  hours  passed  away  slowly ;  until  at  length,  the  hour 
of  midnight  struck  from  the  hall  clock.  A  solemn  silence  pre 
vailed  throughout  the  house,  bat  out  of  doors  the  rain  was 
falling  heavily,  and  the  wind  was  howling  mournfully  ;  a  storm 
had  set  in  early  in  the  evening,  which  had  continued  to 
increase  in  violence.  Marie  had  given  up  all  hopes  of  receiv 
ing  aid  from  her  sister,  and  she  had  drawn  the  dirk-knife  from 
the  folds  of  her  dress,  and  sat  gazing  strangely  and  intently  on 
the  keen,  glittering  blade.  There  was  a  slight  sound,  as  of 
some  one  moving  stealthily  along  the  passage,  in  bare  feet.  A 
key  was  cautiously  fitted  into  the  keyhole  of  the  door  of 
Marie's  prison-chamber,  and  in  another  moment  it  was  turned, 
an:.l  the  door  being  cautiously  opened,  displayed  Louise  attired 
in  her  night-clothes,  her  face  pallid  with  emotion  and  fear,  but 
carrying  in  her  hand  the  key  of  the  street  door. 

She  started,  and  an  exclamation  that  would  have  alarmed 
the  house,  almost  burst  from  her  lips,  as  she  saw  her  sister 
looking  so  earnestly — so  strangely  upon  the  weapon  she  held 
in  her  hand  ;  but  the  sound  of  her  entrance  had  aroused 
Marie  from  her  reverie,  and  as  she  looked  at  her  sister  Louise, 
the  latter  became  reassured.  She  advanced  to  her  sister. 

"  Marie,"  she  whispered,  •"  I  have  stolen  into  our  uncle's 
room  and  have  taken  this  key  from  his  pockets,  while  he  lay 
sleeping.  Hasten,  darling — hasten  to  fly — for  I  must  see  you 
off  and  restore  the  key  before  he  awakes.  But,  oh  !  it  is  an 
awful  night  on  which  to  be  abroad  I" 

*  Marie  smiled  a  ghastly  smile.  "  What  is  the  rage  of  the 
elements,  Louise,"  she  said;  "  what  is  death  itself,  in  any  shape, 
compared  to  the  horror  of  the  fate  that  awaits  me  if  I  remain 
here  ?  Give  me  the  key,  dear,  and  Heaven  bless  you, 
and  preserve  you  from  the  wretchedness  that  has  befallen 
your  sister." 

She  kissed  Louise,  and  took  the  key  from  her  trembling 
hand.  Marie  was  calm  and  self-composed.  Her  nerves  were 
strung  to  the  utmost  tension. 

"  But  you  have  no  money,  Marie  ?"  said  Louise. 

"  But  little,"  replied  Marie.     "  But  I  need  not  that » 


368  THE  CABIN  BOY'S  STORY. 

"  I  have  thought  of  it,  and  have  brought  you  my  little  store; 
take  it,  Marie,  for  my  sake." 

It  was  no  time  for  words.  Marie  took  the  proffered  purse 
and  placed  it  in  her  pocket,  and  then,  embracing  Louise,  she 
said  : 

"  Farewell,  dearest  sister,  for  the  present.  We  may  never 
meet  again  on  earth  !  but  I  trust  we  shall  meet  in  Heaven — " 

In  the  course  of  a  few  minutes  more  Marie  was  in  the  dark 
and  desolate  streets,  exposed  to  the  fury  of  the  pitiless  storm  ; 
and  Louise  had  returned  the  key  to  her  uncle's  pocket  without 
awakening  him.  Then  she  retired  to  her  own  room  to  weep 
and  pray  for  her  unfortunate  sister. 

When  Marie  had  reached  the  street,  she  mechanically  bent 
her  steps  towards  the  Levee.  She  had  no  motive  in  going  thi 
ther.  She  had  not  thought  of  any  plan  of  action.  Her  whole 
soul  had  been  engrossed  with  the  desire  to  escape  anyhow,  any 
where,  out  of  the  house  of  Mr.  Wilson.  Now  she  strove  to 
gather  her  scattered  thoughts  and  to  form  some  plan  how  to 
proceed,  but  the  more  she  thought,  the  less  did  she  seem  likely 
to  resolve  upon  any  definite  system  of  action.  Meanwhile  the 
drenching  rain  had  wetted  her  to  the  skin,  and  the  cold  winds  had 
chilled  her  frame  to  the  very  marrow  of  her  bones.  She  wan 
dered  from  street  to  street,  as  one  crazy — always  holding  in 
her  hand  the  friendly  dagger  which  she  resolved  should  end  her 
misery  ere  morning  light,  if  Heaven  had  forsaken  her,  as  it 
appeared  to  have  done. 

The  clock  struck  the  hour  of  three.  For  nearly  three  hours 
she  had  been  wandering  amidst  the  storm  in  the  drenching 
rain,  through  the  deserted  streets.  She  felt  her  strength 
failing  her  ;  and,  at  the  termination  of  a  street  leading  on  to 
the  Levee,  she  sank  exhausted  upon  the  door  step  of  an 
hotel. 

The  door  was  opened,  and  a  man  stepped  out,  having  been 
conducted  to  the  door  by  a  friend,  with  whom,  it  appeared,  he 
had  been  spending  the  evening,  far  into  the  night. 

"  Good  night,  captain  ;  or,  rather,  I  should  say,  good  morn 
ing,"  said  the  man  inside.  "  You  have  a  dirty  night  to  find 
your  way  on  board  in — take  care  of  yourself.  I  am  going  to 
turn  in,  for  I  feel  devilish  tired  and  sleepy  ;  and  by  the  time  I 
wake  in  the  morning,  I  suppose  you  will  be  far  off  at  sea." 

"  Yes,"  returned  the  other,  speaking  in  a  foreign  accent, 
' "  de  wind  is  fair,  although  it  is  stormy  ;  I  sail  get  under  weigh 


THE  CABIN  BOY  S  STORY,  369 

directly  I   get   on   board.     De   pilot  will   be  ready  at  day 
break." 

And,  with  another  mutual  good  night,  and  good  bye,  the 
door  was  closed,  and  the  stranger  addressed  as  captain  endea 
vored  to  pick  his  way  down  the  steps.  In  so  doing  he 
came  in  contact  with  the  almost  insensate  form  of  the  hapless 
Marie. 

"  Caramba !  vat  is  dis  ?"  said  he.  "A  voman  in  de  streets 
in  such  a  night  as  dis — in  all  dis  rain — poor  ting  I  Some 
unfortunate  creature,  I  suppose,  who  has  got  no  home  ;  but 
she  sail  die  if  she  stay  here  trough  de  night." 

And  he  addressed,  her  in  his  broken  English,  asking 
who  she  was,  and  what  had  brought  her  to  that  desperate 
straight. 

Awakened  to  her  senses  by  the  compassionate  tones  of  the 
stranger's  voice,  the  young  girl  endeavored  to  rise,  and 
exclaimed — 

"  Oh,  sir  !  whoever  you  are,  help  me  now  in  the  hour  of  my 
distress." 

"  But  vat  is  de  matter  ?"  said  the  stranger,  evidently  soft 
ened  by  the  young  woman's  earnest  appeal,  and  struck  by  the 
lady-like  tone  of  her  voice.  "  You  is  not — vat  sail  I  say  ? 
Caramba !  I  sail  speak  not  a  little  too  much  English.  You  is 
a  lady  ?" 

''I  am  an  unfortunate  woman  who  needs  your  help,  whoever 
you  be,"  replied  Marie. 

"  Can  you  speak  de  Portuguese  ?"  asked  the  stranger. 

"  No,  sir  !  no  !"  replied  Marie. 

"  De  Espanol  ?" 

"  No." 

"  De  French,  den.  Oh,  yes  ;  you  is  a  lady — you  sail  parlez 
Francois  ?" 

"  Oui,  Monsieur,  *je  parle  Francais  •  par  P  amour  de  Dieu 
prenez  pitie  de  w0z,"*said  Marie,  speaking  in  French. 

"  Then  come  away  from  this  place,"  said  the  stranger,  speak 
ing  fluently  in  the  same  language.  "  Stay,  will  you  come  on 
board  my  ship — my  brig,  I  should  say  ;  you  say  you  have  no 
home  ;  it  is  not  a  fine  abode  for  a  lady,  but  my  cabin  is  better 
than  the  streets  in  this  storm." 

The  voice  of  the  stranger  was  so  gentle,  that  the  unhappy 
girl — glad  to  find  a  friend  in  any  human  being — trusted  her 
self  to  his  guidance  ;  and  carefully  and  politely,  as  though  she 
had  been  clad  in  silks  and  satins,  and  promenading  the  most 

16* 


370  TilK    CABIN     150  Y*S    STURV. 

jy 

fashionable  streets  in  broad  daylight,  he  led  her  to  his  vessel ; 
and  having  carried  her  on  board,  and  placed  her  on  a  sofa  in 
the  cabin,  where  a  bright  fire  was  burning,  he  asked  her  to  tell 
him  her  story  and  say  how  he  could  further  aid  her. 

Marie  told  her  sad  tale  with  an  eloquence  and  feeling  that 
touched  the  honest  sailor's  heart.  He  was  a  young  and  hand 
some  man,  and  the  expression  of  his  countenance,  though 
jovial  and  careless,  was  indicative  of  a  generous  disposition. 

"  I  will  help  you  so  far  as  I  can,  so  may  God  help  me, 
lady,"  he  said,  when  she  had  concluded  her  narrative.  "  I  am 
going  to  sea  so  soon  as  it  is  daylight.  Can  you  trust  yourself 
with  me  ?  If  so — in  a  few  hours  you  will  be  safe  from  pursuit 
— I  am  bound  hence  to  Odessa — although  by  brig  belongs  to 
Lisbon.  You  shall  go  with  me  to  Odessa,  and  when  I  return 
home  to  Lisbon  I  will  introduce  you  to  my  father  and  mother  ? 
poor  lady — they  will  pity  and  help  you.  But  I  leave  it  to 
you  to  say  whether  you  will  trust  yourself  with  me." 

"  I  will,"  replied  Marie,  as  she  looked  into  the  ingenuous  coun 
tenance  of  the  young  sailor.  "You  will  not  betray  or  deceive  me  ?" 

"  No,  lady,  never.  Dom  Sebastian  de  Sylva  has  never  yet 
deceived  any  one  who  trusted  in.  his  honor.  He  will  not  betray 
that  honor  now  by  deceiving  a  woman  in  distress.  I  have 
known  misfortune,  myself,  lady,"  he  continued,  "  and  can  sym 
pathize  with  it  in  others  ;  but  the  day  is  breaking  and  I  hear 
the  voice  of  the  pilot — sit  here  and  dry  your  clothing;  my 
duties  call  me  on  deck,  in  a  few  hours  you  will  be  far  removed 
from  that  villain,  your  uncle,  of  whom  you  speak;"  and  leaving 
Marie  in  the  cabin  he  ascended  to  the  deck — having  first  ordered 
the  steward  to  procure  her  coffee  and  such  refreshments  as  she 
needed. 

By  eight  o'clock  the  storm  had  cleared  up,  and  the  Petrel, 
Dom  Sebastian's  new  brig,  was  standing  out  to  sea,  under  a 
press  of  canvas,  and  when  this  was  reported  to  Marie  by  the 
young  seaman,  she  raised  her  hands  and*  thanked  God,  and 
him,  His  instrument,  who  had  thus,  almost  miraculously,  deli 
vered  her  from  her  persecutors. 

In  the  morning,  just  as  the  white  topsails  of  the  Petrel  were 
fading  from  the  sight  of  those  who  were  watching  her  from  the 
Levee,  Mr.  Wilson  rose  from  his  bed,  and  soon  afterwards  he 
went  to  Marie's  room,  to  take  her  her  breakfast. 

To  his  astonishment,  the  prisoner  had  flown.  How,  he  knew 
not.  She  could  not  have  escaped  from  the  windows,  and  yet 
the  doors  were  locked  and  the  keys  were  in  his  possession. 


THE    CABIN     Bi>V?f    STORY.  '371 

Raging  with  impotent  fury,  he  called  up  the  domestics  and 
questioned  them,  but  without  success  ;  and  he  was  obliged  to 
put  up  with  his  disappointment  in  the  best  way  he  could. 


CHAPTER  XXXVI. 

The  reader  is  introduced  to  Abdallah,  the  Greek  Pirate  Chief— the  in 
terview  between  Abdallah  and  Zoe. 

*'  His  robe  of  pride  was  thrown  aside, 

His  brow  no  high-crowned  turban  bore, 
But  in  its  stead  a  shawl  of  red 

Wreathed  lightly  round,  his  temples  wore ; 
That  dagger  on  whose  hilt  the  gem 

Were  worthy  of  a  diadem,  . 

No  longer  glittered  at  his  waist, 
Where  pistols,  unadorned,  were  braced, 
And  from  his  belt  a  sabre  swung, 
And  from  his  shoulder  loosely  hung 
The  cloak  of  white,  the  thin  cassote 
That  decks  the  wandering  Candiote  ; 
Beneath  his  golden-plated  vest 
Clung  like  a  cuirass  to  his  breast ; 
The  greaves  below  his  knee  that  wound 
WTith  silvery  scales  were  sheathed  and  bound ; 
But  were  it  not  that  high  command 
Spake  in  his  eye,  and  tone,  and  hand, 
All  that  a  careless  eye  could  see 
In  him,  was  some  young  Galliongee." 

BRIDE  OF  ABYDOS. 

A  SMALL  fleet  of  galleys,  feluccas,  and  row-boats  of  quaint 
construction,  lay  at  anchor  off  a  narrow  inlet  of  the  Isle  of 
Samos,  near  the  coast  of  Asiatic  Turkey,  at  the  period  of  Sey 
mour's  return  to  Zuleika's  Isle.  The  portion  of  the  island  off 
which  these  vessels  were  anchored  was  uninhabited,  or  rather, 
we  should  say,  was  only  visited  at  intervals  by  a  horde  of 
Greek  pirates,  who  had  made  this  spot  one  of  their  rendezvous. 
A  few  days  after  Zoe  had  declared  her  intention  to  Marca  not  to 
forego  her  schemes  of  vengeance,  several  groups  of  men  dressed 
in  the  picturesque  dress  of  the  Albanians,  diversified  in  some 
degree  with  a  quaint  mixture  of  nautical  attire,  were  strolling 
011  the  beach  watching  the  vessels,  or  lounging  on  the  green 
sward  beyond,  and  indulging  in  the  luxury  of  the  narghilly. 

To  an  artist  the  scene  would  have  appeared  fraught  with 
every  requisite  to  form  a  picture  of  romantic  beauty.  The 
dress  of  the  men,  who  might  have  been  some  fifty  in  number, 
consisted  of  bright-hued,  short  jackets,  fitting  closely  to  their 
forms,  beneath  which  a  broad,  black  leather  belt  stuck  full  of 


372         THE  CABIN  BOY'S  sTonr. 

pistols,  and  from  which  a  sabre  depended,  was  bound  around 
their  waists,  supporting  their  white,  kilt-like  breeches  which 
reached  barely  to  the  knee,  displaying  their  muscular,  well- 
formed  nether  limbs,  encased  in  scarlet  embroidered  leggings, 
while  their  long,  black  locks  hanging  loosely  over  their  shoul 
ders  were  surmounted  with  scarlet  woollen  caps,  the  tassels  of 
which  hung  jauntily  on  one  side.  A  smooth,  level,  sandy 
beach  formed  the  landing  place  of  the  inlet,  although  on  both 
sides,  at  no  great  distance,  the  surf  beat  violently  upon  the 
coast,  which,  except  in  this  one  spot,  appeared  to  be  rock- 
bound.  This,  with  the  sea  glittering  like  polished  silver  in 
the  bright  sunshine,  its  gently  heaving  bosom  being  studded 
with  the  fleet  of  small  vessels  already  mentioned,  constituted 
the  foreground  of  the  picture  ;  the  background  consisted  of 
well-wooded  hills,  rising  gradually  inland  towards  the  centre 
of  the  island,  rich  in  luxuriant,  but  somewhat  sombre  foliage, 
and  from  amongst  the  trees  peeped  rude,  simply  constructed 
huts,  used  as  sleeping  places  by  the  temporary  visitors,  while 
overhead  the  sky  formed  a  canopy,  unclouded,  and  almost  too 
dazzling  to  gaze  upon,  so  deep  and  clear  was  the  cerulean  hue, 
peculiar  to  the  atmosphere  of  the  Orient ;  but  apart  from  an 
artistic  view,  the  stranger  would  not  have  chosen  to  have  found 
himself  suddenly  placed  in  contact  with  those  lawless  looking 
men,  whose  bronzed  features  and  darkly  bearded  and  mous- 
tached  visages,  upon  which  exposure  and  debauchery,  and 
recklessness  and  ferocity  had  each  set  their  indelible  seal, 
marked  them  as  men  with  whom  it  was  dangerous  to  trifle. 
*  *  * '  *  ^*  * 

"  Paulo,"  said  one  of  a  group  who  had  been  for  some  time 
earnestly  conversing  together  ;  "  our  captain  often  makes 
a  confidant  of  you.  Do  you  know  why  our  fleet  has  been  or 
dered  from  the  Hellespont  to  meet  here,  on  so  sudden  a 
notice  ?" 

"  Not  I,  Marco.  Not  I,"  replied  the  man  addressed  as 
Paulo,  who  was  more  aged  than  most  of  the  party,  and  whose 
somewhat  richer  attire  denoted  that  he  held  rank  amongst  that 
lawless  band.  "  Not  I,"  he  repeated.  "  Giorgio  makes  a  con 
fidant  of  me  ;  say  you  ?  The  boy  might  well  do  so,  for  I  have 
trained  him  from  a  child  ;  but,  Corpo  di  Bacco !  he  only  tells 
me  what  he  pleases  ;  and  I  cannot  ask  him  to  tell  me  more  out 
of  idle  curiosity." 

"  The  boy  !"  exclaimed  another  of  the  group.  "  If  he  were 
here,  and  heard  you  speak  of  him  thus  slightingly,  even  your 


THE  CABIN  BOY'S  STORV.  373 

gray  beard  would  not  protect  you  from  his  anger.     Paulo, 
Giorgio  must  now  be  thirty  years  of  age." 

"  And  if  he  be,  still  he  is  a  boy  to  me,  who  have  nursed  him 
in  my  arms,  and  then  I  was  no  youngling." 

"  Truly  you  bear  your  years  well,  old  Paulo,"  said  Marco  ; 
"  but  hoV  is  it  that  our  captain  is  called  Giorgio  !  He 
was  always  known  to  me,  before  I  joined  his  service^  as  Ab- 
dallah." 

"  Of  a  truth,  Marco,"  replied  Paulo,  "  it  is  evident  that  you 
have  only  lately  joined  our  band,  or  you  would  know  more  of 
our  brave  captain's  history.  His  name  is  Abdallah — at  least 
that  name  was  given  him  in  childhood  by  his  father,  the  old 
tyrant  Vicenzo,  who  was  a  renegade  from  his  kindred,  even  to 
his  religion  ;  but  the  youth  was  discarded  by  him  when  he  took 
to  his  harem  a  younger  mistress  to  supplant  Zoe,  who  had  for 
years  reigned  over  it  ;  and,  when  he  grew  towards  manhood, 
he  abjured  the  religion  of  Mahommed  and  the  name  of  Abdal 
lah — though  he  is  still  often  designated  by  it — and  took  the 
Greek  name  of  Giorgio.  Had  he  his  rights,  he  would  now  rule 
over  many  of  these  islands.  And  yet  he  may.  I  have  a  no 
tion  that  he  has  some  desperate  scheme  on  hand  ;  and  for  the 
consummation  of  that  scheme  we  have  been  ordered  to  quit 
our  safe  anchorage  in  the  Hellespont,  and  have  been  dis 
patched  here." 

"  And  where  now  is  Giorgio  ?" 

"  Keep  a  still  tongue  in  your  head,  if  you  be  wise.  He  will 
shortly  return.  It  is  now  nearly  a  week  past  since  he  sailed 
to  the  northern  islands  ;  and  he  said  that  at  about  the  expira 
tion  of  thaf  period  he  would  be  back  again.  Ha  !  what  is 
that  ?"  For,  even  while  Paulo  was  speaking,  a  white  sail  glit 
tered  in  the  distant  horizon.  "  Fetch  the  spy-glass  from  my 
hat,  Marco — the  long  glass,  that  we  lately  took  from  the 
French  brig.  It  was  worth  all  the  rest  of  the  booty  ;  for  it 
has  the  longest  range  of  any  glass  I  have  ever  taken  from  ship 
of  Frank  or  Moslem.  Hasten,  Marco.  If  that  be  our  cap 
tain,  it  is  well  ;  otherwise,  we  must  prepare  ourselves  for  what 
ever  adventure  is  about  to  bcfal  us." 

Marco  brought  the  glass,  and  Paulo,  adjusting  the  focus, 
applied  it  to  his  eye,  and  gazed  long  and  intently  in  the  direc 
tion  of  the  sail. 

"  Corpo  di  Bacco  /"  he  exclaimed,  at  length,  using  a  favorite 
oath,  as  he  lowered  the  glass.  "  Unless  my  old  eyes  have 


374  THE  CABIN  BOY's  STORY. 

deceived  me,  that  is  Giorgio's  bark  !"  And  he  again  raised 
the  glass  to  his  eye. 

"It  is  he.  It  is  he,"  he  said,  as  he  removed  it  again. 
"  Now  would  I  wager  a  Turkish  piastre  to  a  broad  piece  of 
Spain  that  we  have  stirring  times  on  hand.  It  is  well,  for  our 
joints  have  grown  stiff  and  our  arms  rusty  of  late." 

The  glass  was  passed  from  hand  to  hand,  and  all  the  more 
experienced  amongst  the  assemblage  declared  the  strange  sail 
though  still  at  a  great  distance,  to  be  the  felucca  of  their  cap 
tain. 

Within  an  hour  the  swift-sailing  vessel  had  reached  the 
roadstead  and  cast  anchor,  and  a  boat  left  the  side  and  was 
sculled  rapidly  towards  the  shore  by  a  Greek  sailor.  There 
were  two  others  in  the  little  boat,  one  of  whom  the  expectant 
group  on  shore  had  no  difficulty  in  recognizing  as  their  captain, 
for  his  tall  martial  form  was  readily  distinguishable  ;  but  the 
other  figure  was  wrapped  in  a  large  boat  cloak  so  completely 
as  to  render  the  form  and  even  the  stature  of  the  wearer  indis 
tinct.  The  boat  touched  the  sandy  beach,  and  in  an  instant  a 
dozen  obsequious  hands  were  stretched  out  to  drag  it  up  high 
and  dry^beyond  the  reach  of  the  advancing  and  receding  waves, 
and  a  shout  from  the  united  voices  of  all  the  assemblage  rent 
the  air  in  greeting  to  their  chief.  Giorgio,  or  Abdallah — as, 
excepting  among  his  own  seamen,  he  was  generally  called — 
sprang  lightly  on  shore,  and  then  hastily  returning  the  saluta 
tion  of  the  sailors,  he  extended  his  hand  to  his  companion,  who 
also  sprang  from  the  boat,  with  every  evidence  of  vigor  and 
elasticity.  In  springing,  however,  the  cloak  fell  from  her 
shoulders,  and  displayed  to  the  wondering  seamen  the  tall 
figure  of  Zoe — the  mother  of  Giorgio.  Leading  Zoe  by  the 
hand,  Giorgio  advanced  to  his  men,  who  had  drawn  themselves 
up  in  line,  in  obedience  to  the  command  of  Paulo,  and  formally 
presented  his  mother  to  them,  bidding  them  acknowledge  her 
as  their  sovereign'  mistress.  A  second  cheer  in  honor  of  the 
mother  of  their  captain  was  their  reply  to  this,  and  then  loos 
ing  the  hand  of  Zoe,  Giorgio  stepped  up  to  Paulo,  and  calling 
him  one  side,  entered  earnestly  into  conversation  with  him. 

While  this  conversation  is  going  forward,  let  us  attempt  to 
describe  the  person  and  appearance  of  Giorgio,  with  whom, 
under  the  name  of  Abdallah,  the  reader  is  already  in  some  de 
gree  familiar. 

He  was  still  a  young  man,  although  his  appearance  beto- 


THE    CABIN    13UY's    STORY.  375 

kened  a  greater  number  of  years  than  had  been  accorded  to 
him  by  Paulo  ;  but  this  appearance  of  greater  age  might  have 
been  caused  by  the  hardships  and  exposures  to  which  he  had 
been  subjected  from  childhood.  He  was  tall,  erect,  and  strik 
ingly  handsome.  His  features,  but  for  their  bronzed  complex 
ion,  might  have  been  accounted  feminine,  but  this  failing  was 
removed  by  their  stern  expression,  and  by  the  jet-black  hair, 
moustache,  and  beard  which  adorned  his  face.  He  very  much 
resembled  Zoe,  although  the  malignant  passions  which  marred 
the  beauty  of  the  latter,  and  which  a  constant  brooding  over 
her  smothered  desire  for  complete  and  thorough  vengeance  had 
indelibly  stamped  upon  her  countenance,  were  wanting  in  the 
expression  of  her  son's  face,  which  was  chiefly  noticelble  for 
an  appearance  of  reckless  courage  and  stern  will.  Giorgio  was 
attired  after  the  fashion  of  the  sailors  who  owned  his  sway — 
his  clothing,  although  fashioned  of  better  material  than  their's, 
being  devoid  of  all  ornament.  He  wore  the  scarlet  cap,  the 
embroidered  worsted  jacket,  the  white  kilt-like  breeches,  and 
the  scarlet  leggings  of  an  Albanian  warrior,  and  in  the  belt 
that  encircled  his  waist  were  stuck  a  pair  of  long-barreled  pis 
tols,  while  at  his  side  hung  a  crooked  Turkish  scimiter,  un 
sheathed.  This,  however,  was  not  his  usual  attire,  for,  when 
not  arrayed  in  fighting  costume,  he  was  accustomed  to  wear 
the  garb  of  a  Moslem  of  high  rank,  and  the  handles  of  his  pis 
tols  and  the  hilt  of  his  sabre  were,  when  in  this  costume, 
mounted  with  gold,  and  studded  with  rare  and  valuable  gems. 
Though  but  the  captain  of  a  horde  of  pirates,  he  claimed  the 
rank  of  a  chieftain  of  the  ^Egean  Islands,  in  virtue  of  his  de 
scent,  and  on  that -account,  when  in  gala  costume,  he  still  wore 
the  distinctive  garb  of  a  Mussulman  of  rank — his  father,  Vi- 
cenzo,  having  been  a  renegade  from  the  faith  of  his  ancestors, 
though  the  son  had  abjured  the  Moslem  faith,  and  nominally 
(at  least  it  was  but  little  else)  had  re-adopted  the  religion  of 
his  fathers. 

It  was  sufficient  for  his  followers  to  see  him  in  the  garb  he 
now  wore  to  satisfy  them  that  the  prediction  of  Paulo  was  cor 
rect,  and  that  their  chief  was  bound  in  some  adventurous 
exploit. 

While  Giorgio  and  Paulo,  who  was  his  second  in  command, 
were  engaged  in  conversation,  Zoe  stood  scanning,  with  a  curi 
ous  eye,  the  fierce  followers  of  her  son,  and  an  expression  of 
well-satisfied  pride  gleamed  over  her  handsome  though  savage 
feUtures,  as  she  glanced  at  the  muscular  forms  and  hardened 


376  THE    CABIN    BOY'S    STORY. 

lineaments    of     the    men    who    stood-  submissively    before 
ker  *  *  *  #      .       *  *  * 

Giorgio  and  Paulo  still  paraded  slowly  to  and  fro  on  the  sandy 
beach. 

"  And  when  will  the  attack  be  made  ?"  enquired  Paulo  of 
his  chief. 

"  Within  a  few  days  :  as  soon  as  I  can  marshal  all  my 
strength  and  reach  the  Bay  of  Salonica  with  my  fleet. 
Mohammed  Islam,  he  who  my  cursed  parent  Yicenzo,  leagued 
with  to  effect  the  destruction  of  Arnault,  has  now  a  small 
government  on  the  coast  of  that  bay,  at  Tscheran-Olstock.  He 
has  lontf  been  absent  in  the  interior  of  the  empire;  but  our  ven 
geance  has  not  slept  during  these  years  of  absence,  nor  have  we 
forgotten  or  forgiven  his  perfidy.  Paulo,  he  must  perish  with 
his  guards.  He  has  abundance  of  spoil  and  many  wives  and 
concubines;  these  latter  must  be  ours.  We  will  make  the  pam 
pered  women  of  the  haughty  Mohammed  Islam  toil  as  our 
slaves,  or  dispose  of  them  to  others  for  gold,  and  his  wealth 
shall  go  to  increase  our  store.  But  I  have  another  object  in 
view  in  this  expedition;  there  lies  at  the  entrance  of  the  Bay 
of  Salonica  a  small  island  upon  which  a  daughter  of  Vicenzo 
has  taken  up  her  abode.  She  is  the  wife  of  a  Frank,  who  has 
made  the  island  his  home.  She  is  a  sister  of  mine,  but  I  dis 
claim  all  ties  which  would  bind  me  to  Yicenzo.  I  have  pro 
mised  my  mother  to  seize  her  that  she  may  be  sold  to  the  Turk, 
and  this  duty  I  take  upon  myself.  To  you,  therefore,  after  our 
fleet  has  reached  that  island  will  I  entrust  its  command,  until  I 
rejoin  you.  With  my  own  felucca  and  its  trusty  and  well-tried 
crew,  shall  I  be  enabled  to  effect  my  purpose — to  seize  Yicen- 
zo's  daughter  and  to  make  a  prisoner  of  her  husband:  to  slay 
him  if  he  is  fool-hardy  enough  to  offer  resistance.  Now  go, 
brave  Paulo,  and  impart  to  my  followers  the  design  I  have  in 
in  view;  get  all  ready  for  sea  with  the  utmost  dispatch.  I 
must  rejoin  my  mother." 

The  chief  turned  away  and  retraced  his  steps  to  the  spot 
where  he  had  left  Zoe,  where  she  was  still  standing,  alone; 
for  the  seamen  had  separated  and  wandered  to  the  beach, 
where  they  were  joined  by  Paulo,  who,  assembling  them 
together,  gave  them  such  information  as  he  thought  fit  with 
regard  to  the  projected  expedition;  and  then,  accustomed  to 
prompt  obedience,  they  commenced  with  alacrity,  immediately 
to  prepare  the,  vessels  for  sea. 


THE    CABIN    COY'S    STORY.  377 

"  And  who,  mother,  is  the  husband  of  Bedita,  this  sister  of 
mine,  though  she  does  not  call  you  mother  ?"  enquired  Giorgio. 

"  A  Frank  from  far  across  the  western  waters,  my  son,"  re 
plied  Zoe.  "  You  recollect  the  young  man  who,  while  you 
were  yourself  but  a  youth,  although  then  you  had  command  of 
these  brave  followers,  engaged  in  your  service,  and  was  promi 
nent  on  account  of  his  reckless  daring — and  at  times,  when 
heated  in  the  affray,  for  his  ferocity  ?" 

"I  do;  but  I  thought  he  was  slain  when  reverses  tempora 
rily  befell  us  and  our  stronghold  was  broken  up." 

"  He  was  not  slain.  Where  he  has  since  been  I  know  not; 
enough,  that  he  has  possessed  himself  of  wealth,  and  has 
wedded  Bedita,  or  Zuleika  as  he  has  chosen  to  call  her.  /re 
cognized,  then,  in  the  daring  pirate,  the  youth  who  but  a  short 
time  before  had  purchased  Bedita  of  me,  in  the  slave  mart  at 
Stamboul;  but  he  seldom  saw,  and  did  not  recognize  me.  He 
had  paid  me  well  for  the  child.  She  was  then  but  an  infant, 
and  although  she  gave  promise  of  exceeding  beauty  would  have 
fetched  but  little  in  the  market.  I  thought  he  had  in  his  turn 
disposed  of  her  to  advantage,  and  I  heeded  not  her  fate.  But, 
I  cannot — will  not  allow  her  to  reside  in  peace  among  these 
Islands,  where,  with  my  consent,  none  of  the  progeny  of 
Vicenzo,  save  you,  my  own  sou,  shall  set  their  footsteps." 

"Is  Bedita,  then,  so  very  beautiful  ?"  asked  the  pirate 
chief. 

"  She  is  beautiful  as  the  almond  blossom  in  early  spring," 
replied  Zoe,  speaking  in  the  figurative  language  peculiar  to  the 
East. 

The  young  man  did  not  immediately  reply,  but  his  features 
assumed  a  thoughtful  expression.  In  a  few  minutes,  however, 
he  continued  : 

"  And  the  Frank  was  a  brave  and  gallant  youth.  I  would 
not  willingly  that  he  should  come  to  harm — perchance  he  would 
join  our  band;  his  bravery  and  skill  would  be  valuable.  I  might 
offer  him  a  command,  and  perhaps  he  would  willingly  consent 
to  resign  his  bride;  there  are  others  as  handsome  as  Bedita." 

"  Ah  !  my  son,"  returned  Zoe,  "you  know  not  these  north 
ern  Franks.  They  are  cold  and  passionless  as  the  icicles  of 
their  native  land.  They  feel  little  of  the  fire  that  scorches  the 
blood  of  the  sons  and  daughters  of  the  East;  but  when  their 
long  dormant  passions  are  aroused,  they  are  more  terrible  than 
the  lion  of  the  forest,  and  they  are  true  to  the  one  woman  they 
make  their  wife.  To  ask  this  man  to  resign  Bedita,  would  be 


378  THE  CABIN  BOY'S  STORY. 

to  sting  him 'to  madness,  for  he  doats  upon  her;  and  think  not 
that  he  will  listen  to  offers  of  compromise.  No,  no,  the  sand 
must  drink  up  his  heart's  blood — and  the  dainty  Bedita  must 
become  the  inmate  of  a  Turkish  harem." 

"  Be  it  so,  mother,"  replied  Giorgio,  "  the  vessels  will  sail 
to-night.  Shall  you  accompany  us  ?" 

"  I  will.  I  must  be  present  when  Bedita  and  her  infant  are 
torn  from  the  arms  of  the  Frank  husband  and  father.  That 
hour  will  be  the  hour  of  rny  vengeance.  It  will  then  be  sati 
ated." 

The  mother  and  son  parted,  Zoe  retiring  to  Giorgio's  hut, 
and  the  latter  going  towards  the  beach  to  superintend  the  pre 
parations  for  the  departure  of  his  vessels. 


CHAPTER   XXXVII. 

The  Gale  in  the  ^Egean  Sea^The  meeting  of  De  Sylva  and  Seymour — 
Zuleika  begs  her-  Husband  to  become  a  Christian — The  Death  of 
Zuleika  and  her  Child. 

"  That  fearful  moment  when  he  left  the  cave, 

Thy  heart  grew  chill ; 

He  was  thy  hope — thy  joy — thy  love — thine  all, 
And  that  last  thought  on  him,  thou  could'st  not  save, 

Sufficed  to  kill ; 
Burst  forth  in  one  loud  cry,  and  all  was  still." 

Bride  of  Abydoa. 

"  Wilt  thou  ?    I  know  thou  will, 

Thy  silence  speaks  assent ; 
And  in  that  pleasing  hope 
Thy  Emma  dies  content." 

A  BRIG  under  -close  reefed  topsails,  her  top-gallant 
masts  struck",  and  jib-boom  housed — the  paint  on  her  sides 
almost  washed  off — and  her  rigging  whitened  by  being  conti 
nually  soaked  with  the  spray  that  broke  over  it — was  rolling 
heavily  in  the  trough  of  the  sea  amongst  the  Islands  of  the 
Cyclades.  Hers  had  been  a  perilous  position ;  for  some  days 
past  she  was  bound  through  the  Dardanelles,  when  one 
of  those  gales,  rare,  but  when  they  do  blow,  raging  with  great 
fury,  had  driven  her  out  of  her  course — and  for  three  days  she 
had  drifted  amongst  the  "  thousand  islands"  of  the  JEgean 
Sea,  almost  unmanageable,  and  liable  at  any  moment  to  be 
dashed  to  pieces  on  some  of  the  numerous  rocky  islets,  or 


THE    CABIN     BOY'S    ST-Jlli*.  379 

stranded  on  the  reefs  and  sand  banks,  that  so  abounded  there. 
But  the  gale  had  reached  its  height,  and  had  begun  to  subside. 
The  wind  had  considerably  decreased,  and  it  now  blew  scarcely 
more  than  a  strong  top-gallant  breeze  ;  but  the  sea  still 
rolled  heavily — and  the  little  vessel  suffered  all  the  more 
for  want  of  sail  to  keep  her  steady,  for  her  top-gallant  masts 
had  been  sprung  before  they  were  struck — and  all  her  sails 
were  rent.  She  presented  to  the  eye  a  picture  of  desolation. 
In  fact,  the  scene  was  altogether  of  a  gloomy,  dismal  charac 
ter.  The  thick,  misty",  gray  scud  overhead,  although  the  wind 
had  abated,  continued  to  drift  rapidly.  The  disturbed  waters 
which  had  for  days  dashed  wildly  against  the  rocks  and  sand 
banks,  had  became  impregnated  with  earthly  sediment,  and 
had  changed  their  customary  deep  blue  hue  to  that  of  a  turgid 
yellow,  and  at  intervals  the  wind  rose  in  gusts  and  whistled 
shrilly  through  the  bare  rigging  as  though  loth  yet  to  conclude 
its  wild  carnival,  while  the  gulls  and  other  sea  birds  flew 
around  in  circles  and  shrieked  discordantly,  as  if  mocking 
or  mourning — it  seemed  hard  to  tell  which — the  desolation  of 
nature. 

Wrapped  in  a  pea-jacket,  with  a  sou'wester  on  his  head,  tied 
tightly  down  beneath  his  chin,  and  his  legs  and  feet  encased  in 
a  pair  of  heavy  sea-boots,  into  which  his  trousers  were  tucked, 
stood  one  who  appeared  to  be  the  captain  of  the  brig.  He 
was  peering  intently  and  anxiously  through  the  hazy  atmos 
phere,  steadying  himself  by  holding  firmly  to  the  weather-main 
rigging,  and  by  his  side  stood  a  seaman,  whom,  to  judge  from 
the  frequency  with  which  the  captain  turned  and  spoke  to  him 
— half  in  command,  half  as  though  asking  advice — might 
be  the  officer  second  in  command ;  and  further  off,  near 
the  companion-way,  secured  in  a  chair  that  was  firmly  lashed 
to  the  deck  by  the  ring-bolts,  was  seated  a  female  form, 
though  her  slight  figure  was  so  encumbered  with  heavy  boat- 
cloaks,  that  it  required  a  close  scrutiny  to  distinguish  her  sex 
by  her  attire. 

"  The  gale  is  now  over,  Pedro— and  it  is  time,"  said  the 
captain,  speaking  in  Portuguese,  to  his  mate.  "  We  must 
have  been  driven  a  long  way  out  of  our  course.  I  wish  it 
would  clear  up  a  little,  so  that  we  could  ascertain  where  we 
are.  We  have  been  drifting  to  the  westward  ever  since  the 
breeze  commenced,  and  I  should  judge  that  now  we  cannot  be 
far  off  the  Bay  of  Salonica.  We  want  more  sail  set,  though. 
Pedro,  you  had  better  set  the  carpenter  to  work  at  the  spare 


380  THE  CABIN  BOY'S  STORY. 

spars,  and  get  up  new  top-gallant  masts  as  quickly  as  pos 
sible." 

"  Every  spar  has  been  washed  overboard  with  the  long-boat, 
Senhor,"  replied  the  mate.  "  We  haven't  got  a  stick  on 
board  even  to  make  a  royal  mast,  let  alone  a  top-gallant 
mast." 

"  Ha  !  that  is  unfortunate.  We  must  get  new  spars,  some 
way  or  other,  before  we  enter  the  Dardanelles.  It  will  never 
do  to  attempt  to  pass  through  that  narrow  channel  with  no 
power  to  set  more  sail  than  we  now  carry." 

"  I  should  think,  Senhor,  that  it  would  not  be  difficult  to 
procure  spars  from  some  of  these  islands.  The  Greeks  would 
furnish  them  to  us,  I  have  no  doubt,  and  cheap,  too." 

"Very  likely;  well  thought  of,  Pedro.  As  soon  as  the 
weather  clears  up,  and  I  think  we  shall  catch  a  glimpse  of  the 
sun  by  noon,  we  will  steer  for  the  first  island  we  see  that  looks 
sufficiently  inviting.  Let  the  reefs  out  of  the  topsails,  Pedro, 
and  hoist  them  up.  Let  us  crowd  as  much  sail  on  the  brig  as 
possible,  for  she  is  fairly  becalmed  in  the  trough  of  the  sea  ; 
and  it  would  be  as  well  to  get  the  guns  up  from  the  hold,  the 
whole  six  of  them,  and  see  them  put  in  order.  These  Greeks 
are  ticklish  customers  to  deal  with.  I  don't  suppose  we  shall 
have  occasion  to  use  them  ;  but  the  appearance  of  being  able 
to  show  fight  often  keeps  one  out  of  a  row." 

The  mate  left  the  side  of  his  captain  to  execute  the  orders 
he  had  received;  and  the  latter  having  apparently  satisfied  him 
self  that  he  had  plenty  of  sea-room  for  the  present,  left  his 
position  by  the  weather-main  rigging,  and  drew  near  the  com 
panion-way. 

"  It  has  been  a  rough  spell  of  weather,  this,  Mademoiselle 
Marie,"  said  he,  speaking  cheerfully  in  the  French  language  to 
the  lady.  "  The  JEgean  Sea  is  generally  calm  and  gentle;  but 
when  a  gale  does  blow  it  blows  to  some  purpose.  I  am  glad 
to  see  you  on  deck.  I  have  had  little  time  or  opportunity  to 
speak  to  you  since  this  infernal  breeze  commenced,  for  we  have 
been  in  an  unpleasant  position  here  right  among  these  islands. 
How  have  you  borne  it  ?" 

"  Oh,  quite  well,  Captain  De  Sylva,"  replied  Marie  Wilson 
(the  reader  will  have  already  perceived  that  it  was  she  who 
had  been  addressed  by  the  captain).  "The  cabin  has  been  so 
close  and  the  sea  broke  over  the  deck  so  wildly  that  I  was 
fearful,  if  I  had  indeed  been  able,  to  leave  the  cabin  ;  but  the 
fresh  air  has  quite  revived  me.  It  is  a  grand  sight,  this  tumul- 


THE    CABIN     BOY'S    STORY.  381 

tuous   heaving  of  the   waters,   and   how  wild   the    sky    still 
looks  r 

"  Yes,  the  sight  is  grand  enough;  but  one  has  little  time  or 
inclination  to  admire  its  sublimity,  locked  up  in  a  narrow  sea 
like  this,  full  of  reefs  and  sandbanks.  If  it  had  been  on  the 
open  ocean  now,  I  then  should  have  taken  it  easy,  and  should 
have  brought  you  on  deck  to  witness  the  effects  of  the  gale 
when  at  its  height.  But  I  have  not  rested  or  closed  my  eyes 
these  three  days,  and  in  such  a  case,  when  one's  mind  is  anx 
ious,  being  aware  that  hidden  dangers  are  all  around  one,  there 
is  plenty  to  occupy  the  attention  besides  the  sublimity  of 
nature." 

"  You  must  be  dreadfully  fatigued,  Captain  De  Sylva." 

"  A  little.  I  shall  be  fatigued  when  I  have  time  to  rest  ; 
but  the  anxiety  I  have  suffered  has  served  to  banish  fatigue, 
while  a  cause  for  that  anxiety  lasted."' 

"  We  are  safe  now  ?"  inquired  Marie. 

"I  hope  so.  The  gale  is  over,  arid  I  expect  the  weather 
will  shortly  clear,  and  then  we  shall  sight  some  of  the  islands, 
and  learn  our  exact  position.  You  will  have  an  opportunity, 
Mademoiselle,  of  going  on  shore  and  looking  about  you,  for  I 
find  I  shall  have  to  go  into  the  first  haven  that  offers  to  ob 
tain  some  new  spars."  - 

''That  will  be  delightful!"  exclaimed  Marie,  and  then  she 
choked  herself,  adding,  "  but  how  foolish  I  am.  If  it  will  be 
delightful  to  me,  I  suppose  it  will  considerably  delay  your 
voyage  ?" 

'"  It  does  not  much  matter,"  replied  the  captain.  "I  am 
accustomed  to  take  such  things  easy,  and  make  my  time  my 
own,  and  consequently  the  delay  will  not  annoy  me  as  it  would 
one  who  was  anxious  to  make  a  rapid  voyage — still  I  grant  I 
am  sailor  enough  to  feel  every  delay  that  I  don't  bring  about 
at  my  own  pleasure  an  annoyance." 

"  When  shall  we  reach  Odessa  ??'  enquired  Marie. 

"  That,  lady,  it  is  impossible  for  me  to  say  ;  but,  if  we  suc 
ceed  in  getting  the  spars  we  need,  and  the  wind  proves  favora 
ble  for  our  passage  through  the  Dardanelles  and  the  Bosphorus, 
we  may  be  there  in  a  fortnight." 

At  this  moment  the  sun  shone  out  from  the  murky  clouds, 
dissolving  the  mist,  as  by  enchantment,  and  altogether  chang 
ing  the  aspect  of  nature.  "  Thank  heaven  1  there  is  the  sun 
again,"  exclaimed  De  Sylva. 

"  The  blessed  sun  !"   exclaimed  Marie  ;  and,  as  if  a  simulta- 


382  THE  CABIN  BOY'S  STORY. 

neous  feeling  of  delight  had  seized  the  entire  crew  at  the  sight 
of  the  glorious  luminary  that  for  three  days  had.  been  hidden 
from  them,  every  eye  was  cast  aloft — on  every  face  beamed  a 
smile  of  satisfaction. 

"  Aloft  there!"  shouted  the  captain,  in  Portuguese,  to  the 
men  who  were  busied  shaking  out  the  reefs  from  the  main  top 
sail.  "  Do  you  see  land  any  where — the  mist  has  cleared 
away  ?" 

"  Land  on  the  weather  bow  !"  sung  out  the  man  at  the 
weather  earing  of  the  topsail.  . 

"  Land  on  the  lee  bow  I"  sung  out  a  seaman  from  the  lee- 
yard-arm. 

"  By  heaven!"  exclaimed  the  captain,  "we  must  be  well  up 
the  Bay  of  Salonica — much  further  than  I  thought.  It  is 
lucky  the  gale  has  broken  or  we  should  have  been  ashore  on 
the  Turkish  coast.  Brace  up  the  yards  close,"  he  continued  ; 
*'  lay  down  from  aloft,  men,  and  trim  sails." 

The  men  crowded  down  from  the  rigging,  and  for  a  few 
minutes  all  was  hurry  and  bustle — to  the  eye  of  a  landsman  all 
would  have  been  confusion. 

The  brig  was  put  on  another  course;  the  topsails  were 
hoisted,  and  again  a  man  was  sent  aloft  to  ascertain  whether 
any  of  the  islands  were  in  sight. 

"  There  is  a  group  of  small  islands  away  to  leeward," 
shouted  the  seaman,  from  aloft. 

"  Can  you  make  them  out  clearly,  my  man  ?"  asked  the 
captain.  "  Be  sure  they  are  not  merely  a  cluster  of  rocks." 

"  I  can  see  that  they  are  well-wooded  islands,"  answered  the 
man. 

At  this  moment  the  slight  mist,  which  had  still  lingered, 
rolled  away,  and  the  group  of  islands  discerned  by  the  look-out 
became  distinctly  visible  to  all  on  deck.  They  were  evidently 
well-wooded  and  hilly,  for  the  outline  of  the  highlands  could  be 
distinctly  seen  through  the  now  clear  atmosphere. 

"  We  will  bear  down  to  them,  Pedro,"  said  the  captain  ; 
"  square  the  yards  again.  We  may  be  able  to  procure  from 
them  the  spars  we  stand  in  need  of." 

The  order  was  obeyed,  and  in  the  course  of  a  few  minutes 
the  brig  was  heading  towards  the  islands,  and  rapidly  ap 
proaching  them — the  wind  being  brought  on  the  quarter,  and 
still  blowing  a  smart  breeze. 

As  the  Petrel  neared  the  land  a  crowd  of  small  sail  became 
discernible,  apparently  bound  up  the  Bay. 


THE    CABIN    BOY'S    STORY.  383 

"What  can  be  the  meaning  of  that?"  asked  Captain  De 
Sylva.  "  Those  vessels  are  not  merchantmen,  that's  certain. 
We  will  give  them  as  wide  a  berth  as  possible.  They  must  be 
a  fleet  of  Greek  feluccas  and  row-boats,  bound  on  some  ma 
rauding  expedition." 

Leaving  Captain  De  Sylva  and  his  crew  watching,  with  no 
little  anxiety,  the  suspicious  strangers  whom  they  had  suddenly 
come  across,  we  will  return  to  the  island  of  Samos,  where  we 
left  Zoe  and  Giorgio  and  his  followers  preparing  for  the  con 
templated  attack  upon  the  fortress  of  Mohammed  Islem. 

So  energetic  had  been  the  pirates,  that  by  sunset,  as  Gior 
gio  had  told  his  mother,  his  little  fleet  was  ready  for  sea  ;  and 
before  midnight  that  same  evening  they  had  left  the  Island  of 
Samos  in  the  distance.  For  a  few  days  their  progress  north 
ward  had  been  as  rapid  as  they  could  have  wished;  but  on  the 
third  day  a  storm  arose,  and  as  the  vessels  were  small — and 
though  good  sea  boats,  unfitted,  many  of  them,  to  contend 
with  the  elements  in  their  fury — they  had  taken  shelter  under 
the  lee  of  one  of  the  larger  islands,  at  the  entrance  of  the  Bay 
of  Salonica,  which  they  had  reached  before  the  tempest  had 
commenced. 

As  soon  as  the  gale  had  shown  symptoms  of  moderating, 
Giorgio,  who  was  urged  by  Zoe,  and  who  was  likewise  himself 
anxious  to  put  to  sea  again  as  soon  as  possible,  got  his  vessels 
under  weigh,  and  it  was  this  fleet  which  had  been  descried 
from  the  deck  of  the  Petrel.  *  *  *  * 

The  tempest  had  raged  over  the  entire  breadth  of  the  JEgean 
Sea ;  and  Seymour  and  Zuleika,  and  Jane  Miller,  had  been 
confined  within  doors,  for  the  rain  and  wind  rendered  it  un 
pleasant  for  any  one  to  go  abroad  who  was  not  compelled  to 
do  so.  They  had  admired  the  magnificent  strife  of  the  ele 
ments  from  the  windows  of  their  little  cottage,  which  over 
looked  the  sea — and  what,  with  indoor  enjoyments  and  the 
pleasure  experienced  in  watching  the  progress  of  the  gale  from 
their  snug  retreat,  the  hours  had  not  passed  wearily.  Still, 
they  were  glad,  on  the  approach  of  fine  weather,  to  wander 
abroad  and  breathe  the  fresh  air,  and  exercise  their  limbs. 
Together  they  rambled  down  to  the  beach  and  amused  them 
selves  with  gathering  the  shells  which  had  been  cast  ashore 
during  the  storm. 

At  length,  growing  weary,  Seymour  and  Zuleika  had  seated 
themselves  in  the  harbor  on  the  shore,  already  spoken  of,  and, 


384  THE  CABIN  BOY'S  STORY. 

while  Jane  still  lingered  on  the  beach,  were  amusing  them 
selves  by  speaking  of  their  future  prospects. 

"  We  shall  soon  quit  this  isle,  dear  George,"  said  Zuleika, 
"  and  I  shall  really  quit  it  with  regret,  although  I  shall  be 
happy  to  go  with  you  to  any  home  you  choose  ;  but,  I  don't 
know  how  it  is  :  every  place  where  I  linger  becomes  dear  to 
me.  There  are  a  thousand  little  associations  called  forth 
which  we  do  not  feel  until  the  hour  of  departure  draws  near. 
I  longed  to  quit  Annabon,  and  yet  I  left  it,  after  all,  with  feel 
ings  of  sorrow.  The  negroes  were  ignorant  and  superstitious, 
and  yet  I  had  learned  to  love  them,  for  they  were  ever  kind  to 
me.  I  hear  and  read  of  cruelty  and  selfishness  amongst  man 
kind,  and  yet  I  have  found  every  body  kind  and  good,  and  I 
have  thought  that  if  we  are  kind  to  others  we  shall  always  find 
them  kind  to  us.  Is  it  not  SQ,  George — is  it  not  our  own  fault 
when  men  treat  us  badly  ?" 

"Often,  perhaps,  it  is,  Zuleika,"  replied  Seymour;  "nay,  I 
believe  that  in  the  first  instance  it  is  always  so.  I  once  thought 
differently;  but  your  influence,  dear  (and  as  he  spoke,  he  drew 
his  wife  towards  him  and  kissed  her  cheek),  your  influence  has 
created  a  change  within  me  that  I  would  I  had  experienced 
long  ago.  I  should  have  been  spared  much  pain — much  sor 
row,"  and  dropping  his  voice,  he  added,  almost  inaudibly,  "and 
much  remorse." 

They  sat  silent  for  some  time.  At  length  Zuleika,  raising 
her  eyes  towards  her  husband's  face,  said — 

"  Dear  George,  I  have  long  wanted  to  speak  to  you  on  a 
subject,  which,  nevertheless,  I  have  been  delicate  in  approach 
ing,  because  you  have  never  mentioned  it.  You  know  that  old 
Otho,  the  fisherman,  who  lives  near  the  creek,  has  been  a  fa 
vorite  of  mine  ever  since  I  have  been  here.  The  old  man  is  so 
kind  and  gentle,  yet  so  cheerful,  it  is  delightful  to  be  in  his  so 
ciety.  He  is  poor,  for  he  is  growing  old  and  feeble,  poor  fellow, 
and  can  no  longer  procure  fish  for  the  market  at  Lemuos.  He 
has  enough  to  do  to  obtain  support  for  himself.  Shortly  after 
you  left  me — the  last  time  you  went  to  America — I  walked 
out  with  Jane  to  old  Otho's  cottage.  We  found  the  old  man 
seated  in  front  of  his  door,  with  an  old  worn  volume  on  his 
knee,  which  he  was  perusing  earnestly.  Otho  can  read,  though 
few  on  the  island  are  able  to  do  so.  He  was  born  and  educa 
ted  in  Athens,  and  was  a  grown  man  when  he  came  to  this 
island.  The  volume  was  so  large  and  cumbersome,  the  print 


THE    CABIN    BOY'S    STO11V.  385 

was  so  small,  as  I  could  see,  and  the  leaves  in  many  places  so 
soiled,  that  I  felt  sorry  for  the  old  man,  and  I  said  : 

"  '  Otho,  since  you  are  so  fond  of  reading,  I  will  send  you 
acme  Greek  books  from  my  library,  the  print  of  which  is  lar 
ger,  and  which  are  bound  in  smaller  compass.  That  book  is 
heavy  to  hold,  and  it  must  injure  your  eyes  to  read  it.' 

"  The  old  man  looked  up  from  his  book,  and  said,  in  his  pure 
Greek,  that  Greek  I  like  to  hear  him  speak,  so  different  is  it 
from  the  patois  of  the  islands  I  am  accustomed  to  hear,  that 
when  he  speaks,  it  is  as  though  my  books  were  talking  to  me 
in  their  own  fine  language  : 

"  '  Lady,'  he  said,  '  1  am  growing  old  very  fast,  and  but  a 
few  years  can  remain  to  me;  perhaps  a  few  months  will  carry 
me  to  niy  grave,  and  all  the  time  I  now  have  to. read — for  I 
read  but  slowly,  my  eyesight  is  failing  fast — is  all  too  little  for 
the  study  of  the  book  I  now  hold  open  before  me.' 

"  '  But,'  I  repeated,  '  I  will  lend  you  some  books  that  you  can 
read  more  easily  ;  and  you  will  not  so  much  injure  your  eyesight.' 

"  'I  thank  you,  lady/  he  continued;  'your  gentle  voice  is 
pleasing  to  the  ear  of  the  old  man.  It  recalls  to  my  memory 
many  happy  recollections  of  days  gone  by.  I  feel  your  kind 
ness;  but,  can  you  send  me  a  book  so  valuable  as  this  ?' 

"  I  smiled;  but  I  bethought  me,  '  the  book  has  belonged  to 
those  once  dear  to  him,  who  are  now  no  more,  and  it  is 
wrong  in  me  to  smile  at  his  simplicity — worn  as  the  volume  is, 
lie  prizes  it  highly;'  and  I  recollected  how,  when  you  were 
away,  I  cherished  even  a  faded  flower  that  you  had  plucked 
and  worn. 

"  '  I  will  send  you  other  books,  and  still  you  can  keep  that 
volume,'  I  replied. 

"  '  You  mistake  me,  lady,'  he  answered.  '  I  will  speak  plainly 
to  you.  You  are  not  one  who  will  take  offence  from  an  aged 
man,  who  wishes  you  well.  I  would  that  you  would  read  my  old, 
worn,  battered  volume,  in  preference  to  the  gay,  new  books  of 
which  you  speak.  Head  it  with  me,  and  to  me,  lady,  and  you 
will  oblige  me  more  than  by  sending  me  the  books  you  so  kind 
ly  offer — books  that  I  have  no  doubt  are  good,  but  which  I 
have  no  time  to  read.' 

'"What  is  the  title  of  the  book  you  prize  so  highly?'  I 
asked ;  for  I  could  not  help  being  impressed  by  the  old  man's 
earnestness. 

"  '  Lady,'  he  replied,  '  it  is  the  book  of  books — it  is  the 
Bible.' 

n 


386  THE  CABIN  BOY'S  STORY. 

"  My  curiosity  was  aroused.  Amongst  all  the  books  you 
had  brought  me,  George,  you  had  never  brought  me  a  Bible. 
.No  wonder;  you  could  not  think  of  everything — you  already 
bring  me  too  much;  and  I  never  asked  you  for  a  Bible.  Still, 
I  had  often  read  of  it  in  other  volumes,  and  I  asked  old  Otho 
to  let  me  see  it;  and,  glancing  over  its  pages,  I  promised,  since 
his  eye-sight  was  failing,  to  come  the  next  day  and  read  it  to 
him.  George,  you  should  have  witnessed  the  smile  that  illlu- 
mined  his  countenance.  He  took  my  hand  : — 

"  '  Lady,'  he  said,  '  I  have  prayed  for  this  and  now  it  has  come 
to  pass.  Yes,  lady,  read  that  book  for  me,  and  then  you  will 
soon  read  it  for  yourself.' 

"  I  went,  according  to  promise,  and  on  the  next  day  I  read 
to  him  from  the  New  Testament;  from  the  gospel  of  St.  John. 
At  first  it  was  dull  and  incomprehensible  to  me,  and  I  soon 
began  to  weary  of  it;  and  when  I  had  finished  reading,  and 
Otho  asked  me  how  I  liked  the  words  of  his  old,  battered  vol 
ume,  I  told  him  how  I  felt.  Then  he  explained  to  me  that 
which  was  mysterious  in  its  pages,  with  earnestness  and  fervor, 
and  with  an  eloquence  so  far  above  his  condition,  that  I  almost 
fancied  that  he  was  inspired  like  the  holy  men  he  spoke  of — and 
I  longed  for  the  hour  to  come  when  I  should  read  to  him  again. 
I  went  the  next  day,  and  the  next,  and  I  persuaded  Jane  to  go 
with  me,  and  every  day  I  loved  more  and  more,  as  I  began  to 
understand  it  better,  the  volume  I  once  thought  so  lightly  of. 
At  length  others  used  to  come  into  the  hut  and  hear  me  read, 
and  Otho, when  I  had  finished,  would  explain  the  dark  passages  so 
easily  and  so  distinctly  that  he  charmed  all  who  listened  to  him. 
He  told  of  olden  times  when  prophets  sent  direct  from  God  to 
His  chosen  people,  the  Jews  (a  race  whom  I  have  never  seen,  but 
whom  I  much  wish  to  see),  led  them  out  of  difficulties  and 
dangers,  that  but  for  this  guidance  would  have  overwhelmed 
them.  He  spoke  of  prophecies  foretold  in  the  Old  Testament, 
and  he  showed  from  the  New  Testament,  which  he  said  was 
written  in  my  own  beautiful  Greek,  how  many  of  these  pro 
phecies  had  been  fulfilled,  and,  how  many  more  had  yet  to  be  ful 
filled  and  would  be,  as  surely  as  yonder  sun  shines  over  our 
heads.  George,  I  experienced  doubts  and  fears,  I  thought  it 
impossible  that  I  could  ever  be  worthy  of  the  glory  and  happi 
ness  promised  in  that  blessed  book.  And  I  told  old  Otho  of  my 
fears  and  doubts,  and  he  bade  me  hope  and  pray,  and  he  prayed 
with  me  and  for  me;  and,  dear  George,  I  trust  I  have  become 
a  Christian,  not  such  as  I  would  wish  to  be;  that  is  impossible 


THE  CABIN  BOY'S  STORY.  387 

to  us  while  on  earth ;  but  still,  a  Christian  inasmuch  as  I  have 
hope  in  the  blessed  Redeemer.  Dear  George,"  she  continued 
after  a  pause,  looking  pleadingly  and  tearfully  up  into  Sey 
mour's  face,  and  taking  his  hand  in  hers — "  will  you  not,  for  my 
sake,  for  the  sake  of  our  baby,  whom  we  so  dearly  love.  Will 
not  you,  too,  strive  to  become  a  Christian  ?" 

Again  she  paused,  as  if  waiting  for  a  reply  from  her  husband; 
but  Seymour  had  listened  to  her  words,  as  though  he  were  in  a 
trance;  he  could  not  trust  himself  to  speak — he  was  unable  to 
speak;  as  he  essayed  to  do  so,  the  words  rose  in  his  throat  and 
choked  his  utterance ;  he  felt  his  conscience  bitterly  upbraiding 
him  ;  he  saw  as  in  a  vision,  the  panorama  of  his  past  life  un 
rolled  and  spread  out  before  him.  He  felt  the  words  of  Zuleika 
prick  him  to  the  heart;  she  had  spoken  and  pleaded  as  with  the 
voice  of  an  angel;  but  she  seemed  to  him,  involuntary,  to  be  an 
accusing  as  well  as  a  pleading  angel. 

Zuleika  observed  his  emotion.  • 

"  Why  this  emotion,  dear  George,"  said  she.  "  I  know  that 
hitherto,  kind,  generous,  noble,  as  you  are,  you  have  not  expe 
rienced  the  delights  of  religion  or  you  would  have  spoken  of 
them  to  me,  and  loving  me  as  you  do,  would  have  sought  to 
have  led  me  to  love  them.  You  are  much — so  very  much  wiser 
than  I — but  old  Otho  showed  me  the  passage  in  the  Testament 
where  it  said  that  wisdom — the  wisdom  inculcated  by  Chris 
tianity  was  often  denied  to  the  wise  and  given  to  babes.  George, 
old  Otho  now  lies  bed-ridden  ;  but  he  still  takes  delight  in  the 
holy  book.  Let  us  go  to  him  together.  Promise  me  that  you 
will  visit  him  with  me  ?" 

"  I  will.  I  will,"  said  Seymour,  in  a  voice  choking  with 
vainly  suppressed  emotion.  Zuleika  arose  and  threw  her  arms 
around  her  husband's  neck. 

****** 

At  this  time  Jane  Miller,  who  had  all  this  time  lingered 
on  the  beach,  entered  the  harbor  with  her  apron  full  of  sea- 
shells. 

"Am  I  interrupting  you  ?"  she  said.  "  There  is  a  fleet  of  small 
vessels  sailing  past  the  island.  I  have  just  noticed  them;  they 
are  far  off  and  I  cannot  tell  what  they  resemble  ;  and  away  to 
the  northward  is  a  larger  vessel  steering  directly  for  the  island. 
She  looks  like  a  merchant  ship,  and  must  have  suffered  in  the 
storm,  for  she  has  lost  or  struck  her  top-gallant  masts." 

Seymour  and  Zuleika,  immediately  left  the  harbor  with  Jane, 
and  walking  round  a  rocky  promontory  some  distance  from  the 


388          .  THE    CABiiM     BOi'\S    STORY. 

harbor,  from  the  base  of  which  the  vessel  had  been  espied  by 
Jane,  they,  too,  saw  them  distinctly.  Seymour  at  once  sur 
mised  that  the  flotilla  of  small  vessels  were  bound  on  some 
marauding  expedition,  commanded  probably  by  some  pirate 
chieftain,  for  he  knew  that  hordes  of  pirates  still  infested  the 
Grecian  Archipelego.  He  was  disturbed  at  the  sight,  although 
the  flotilla  appeared  to  be  giving  the  island  a  wide  berth,  and 
was  apparently  bound  for  the  Bay  of  Solonica.  But  the  brig 
was  evidently  bound  for  the  island,  and  at  the  present  mo 
ment,  he  felt  that  pirates  or  peaceful  merchantmen  would  be 
alike  unwelcome. 

It  had  been  calm  since  noon,  and  still  remained  nearly  so, 
and  the  vessels  were  making  but  little  progress,  but  he  antici 
pated  the  arrival  of  the  merchant  ship  during  the  the  night. 
It  was  growing  late  and  he  knew  that  after  sunset  the  wind 
would  freshen.  He  resolved  therefore  to  conduct  Zuleika  and 
Jane  to  the  cottage  and  then  to  return  to  the  beach  at  the  end  of 
the  promontory  and  watch  the  strangers,  and  if  the  captain  or 
crew  of  the  brig  should  land,  to  meet  them  on  the  shore. 

The  party,  therefore,  were  about  to  return,  when  an  exclama 
tion  from  Jane  Miller  attracted  the  notice  of  her  companions, 
and  looking  towards  her,  they  saw  that  her  gaze  was  directed 
to  the  extreme  point  of  the  summit  of  the  promontory. 

There  stood — her  tall,  erect  figure  clearly  defined  against 
the  evening  sky — the  aged  sybil,  Marca.  One  arm  was  raised 
and  the  hand  stretched  oat,  and  the  long  skinny  forefinger, 
plainly  distinguishable  in  the  clear  atmosphere,  was  pointed  in 
the  direction  of  the  flotilla;  while  with  the  other  hand  she  waved 
to  the  party  below,  as  if  she  were  warning  them  of  some  im 
pending  danger;  and  still  while  they  gazed  at  her  with  astonish 
ment,  they  heard  her  shrill  voice  chanting  in  mournful  measure 
some  strange,  rude  Runic  rhyme.  Zuleika  nervously  clasped 
her  husband's  arm  and  shrunk  to  his  side,  and  Seymour's  face 
flushed  as  he  said. 

"If  I  were  going  to  remain  here,  I  would  have  that  old 
witch  removed  from  the  island.  Her  mummeries  are  too  absurd. 
She  has  frightened  you,  my  Zuleika.  Heed  her  not — the  crea 
ture  is  insane."  But  as  he  spoke  the  tones  of  his  voice  told 
that  the  superstition  inherent  in  his  nature  was  awakened  by 
the  strange  demeanor  of  the  sybil,  and  he  really  felt  more  fright 
ened  of  that  aged  woman,  then  he  would  have  been  had 
ten  armed  men,  each  seeking  his  life,  suddenly  confronted 
him. 


THE    CABIN    BOY'S    STORY.  389 

The  cheek  of  Jane  Miller,  too,  was  blanched,  but  she  did 
not  speak. 

"  I  know  it  is  foolish  to  be  frightened  of  Marca,  George," 
said  Zuleika.  "  She  has  been  kind  to  me  during  your  ab 
sence  ;  I  do  not  believe  there,  is  any  harm  in  her."  And  as 
she  spoke  she  recovered  from  her  alarm,  and  loosening  her 
grasp  of  her  husband's  arm,  walked  by  his  side  to  the  cottage. 

It  was  more  than  a  mile  distant  from  the  base  of  the  pro 
montory,  and  when  they  reached  it,  Seymour  desired  them  to 
remain,  while  he  returned  to  meet  the  captain  of  the  merchant 
man,  whose  vessel  he  had  no  doubt  had  been  disabled  in  the 
storm  and  who  was  coming  to  seek  assistance.  The  Greek 
vessels  were  steering  a  course  that  would  take  them  clear  of 
the  island,  though  he  felt  somewhat  uneasy  in  consequence  of 
their  vicinity,  he  did  not  think  they  had  any  intention  of  visit 
ing  the  island.  He  hastened  to  the  beach,  for  the  wind  was 
now  freshening  rapidly,  and  blowing  dead  upon  the  shore,  and 
he  expected  the  merchantman  would  drop  her  anchor  before  he 
reached  the  beach. 

He  was  right  in  his  conjecture;  she  had  done  so,  and  a  boat 
was  in  the  act  of  being  lowered  when  he  turned  the  point.  He 
was  so  intently  watching  the  vessel  that  he  did  not  perceive 
that  Marca  had  descended  from  her  elevated  position  and  was 
advancing  towards  him,  and  she  had  approached  so  close  before 
he  saw  her,  that  she  laid  her  skinny  hand  upon  his  arm. 

Seymour  started  back  in  dismay.  Had  a  supernatural  being 
appeared  to  him  he  could  not  have  exhibited  greater  alarm. 

"  Back — 'back — what  do  you  want  with  me  ?"  he  gasped 
forth. 

"  I  come  to  warn  you,"  said  Marca,  in  a  solemn  measured 
tone  of  voice.  "  I  would  save  the  dove  from  the  talons  of  the 
falcon — but  I  dare  not  break  my  oath." 

"What  mean  you,  woman!"  asked  Seymour,  his  wonted 
composure  having  returned  as  he  heard  the  sybil  utter  these 
strange  words.  And  in  a  voice  which  told  that  his  alarm  had 
takeh  another  direction,  he  added,  "  Does  any  harm  threaten 
Zuleika?  But,  no;,  go,  foolish  woman,  go  home.  I  am  a  fool," 
he  muttered,  "  to  take  notice  of  the  poor  insane  creature." 

"  See  yonder  boat  approaching  the  shore,"  said  Marca,  un 
heeding  Seymour's  words,  "  I  know  not  whether  harm  is 
threatened  there;  but  strange  things  arc  revealed  to  me  in  my 
dreams.  Do  you  expect  a  visit  from  one  who  you  believe  is 
laid  in  his  grave,  far,  far  below  the  surface  of  the  ocean,  down 


390 

in  the  deep  waters,  amongst  the  shells  and  the  coral-reefs  of  a 
southern  sea  ?     If  you  do,  perhaps  this  is  he." 

"  But  danger  lies  not  with  him,"  she  continued:  "  See  yonder 
flotilla,  wending  its  way  to  the  northward.  It  is  already  past 
this  isle;  but,  beware!  Close  up  the  dove-cot.  Let  no  one 
see  the  treasure  it  contains.  The  birds  of  prey  are  abroad,  and 
they  spill  blood  in  their  path.  A  guilty  deed  done  in  years 
gone  by  will  this  night  be  avenged — unless  some  miracle  shall 
stay  the  destroyer's  hand." 

"Woman,  what  mean  you;  cease  these  foolish  metaphors; 
by  heaven  you  shall  speak  plainly,"  said  Seymour  passionately, 
and  forgetful  now  of  the  terrors  that  had  assailed  him,  he  ad 
vanced  to  seize  the  old  sybil;  but  she  fled  from  him,  and  merely 
repeating  the  word  "beware!"  clambered  up  the  cliff,  notwith 
standing  her  great  age,  with  the  agility  of  a  goat,  rendering  it 
quite  impossible  for  him  to  hope  to  follow  her.  As  she  reached 
a  projecting  rock  midway  up  the  cliff  she  turned  and  said  : 

"  I  have  warned  you;  but  I  dare  not  break  my  oath,"  and 
then  immediately  disappeared. 

The  boat  was  now  close  to  the  beach,  and  Seymour  stood 
awaiting  its  arrival.  He  saw  it  contained  but  one  man  besides 
the  two  rowers,  and  this  man  he  supposed  was  the  captain. 

The  keel  grated  on  the  beach,  and  the  captain  rising  up  from 
the  stern-sheets  leaped  lightly  over  the  bow  and  advanced  to 
where  Seymour  was  standing,  a  few  yards  distant.  ^ 

At  once  as  he  drew  near,  Seymour  recognized  in  his  light 
step  and  erect  form,  that  of  the  Captain  of  the  Portuguese 
schooner  which  he  had  scuttled  off  the  Island  of  Annabon. 
The  figure  of  that  man,  murdered,  as  he  thought,  iu  an  hour  of 
phrenzied  excitement,  had  ever  haunted  his  imagination;  and 
now  he  saw  him  approaching  him  in  bodily  form  as  last  he  had 
seen  him.  He  recalled  the  events  of  the  past  hour — the  fore 
bodings  of  Marca  still  rung  in  his  ears,  and  uttering  the  cry  "  it 
is  a  spirit ;  it  is  the  ghost  of  him  whom  I  murdered  which  has 
assumed  a  bodily  form,  and  come  to  taunt  me  with  my  bitterly 
.  repented  crime ;"  he  sank  senseless  on  the  beach. 

Captain  de  Sylva  heard  the  words,  and  although  they  were 
spoken  in  English,  he  knew  enough  of  that  language  to  com 
prehend  their" import.  He  rushed  to  the  aid  of  the  conscience- 
stricken  man  and  raising  his  head,  recognized  in  him  the 
individual  he  had  met  and  asked  to  dine  on  board  his  schooner 
at  Annabon. 

He  looked  around  him  in  the  hope  of  seeing  some  one  who 


THE    CABIN    BOY'S    STORY.  391 

might  aid  him  in  resuscitating  the  fainting  man,  and  in  a  few 
moments  Marca,  who,  having  concealed  herself  behind  a  rock, 
had  seen  all  that  passed  from  the  cliff,  was  by  his  side. 

She  brought  water  and  sprinkled  it  upon  Seymour's  face, 
while  De  Sylva  held  his  head  upon  his  knee,  and  in  a  short 
time  Seymour  showed  symptoms  of  revival — but  he  shuddered 
and  shrank  within  himself,  as  he  perceived  that  he  was  resting 
upon  the  knee  of  one  whom  he  still  half  believed  was  a  visitant 
from  the  other  world. 

"  Where  am  I  ?"  he  asked,  gazing  vacantly  around  him,  "am 
I  dreaming  ?  Who  are  you  that  holds  me  ?" 

"  Sebastian  de  Sylva,"  replied  the  young  Portuguese;  "  but 
speak  Portuguese  or  Spanish,  Senhor,  I  can  with  difficulty  un 
derstand  English.  Caramba !  but  this  is  a  strange  adventure, 
and  I  cannot  comprehend  it.  I  may  well  repeat  your  question, 
and  ask  *  am  /"dreaming  ?'  " 

"  Who  or  whatever  you  be,"  said  Seymour,  suddenly  arous 
ing  himself,  "  I  am  George  Seymour,  and  I  was  captain  of  the 
Albatross,  at  Annabon,  where  I  met  you.  Say,"  he  added, 
with  sudden  vehemence,  "  was  it  not  so  ?" 

"It  was,"  replied  Don  Sebastian;  "now  I  begin  to  under 
stand  matters.  Oh!  capitano,  but  that  was  a  foul  deed;  but  it 
is  past,  and  I  saved  my  life,  although  my  poor  fellows  became 
food  for  the  sharks.  Why  did  you  not  say  that  the  fair  recluse 
was  your  bride,  and  I  would  riot  have  sought  to  have  disturbed 
your  iiest.  I  have  heard  of  you  since,  for  you  may  well  suppose 
that  my  curiosity  was  awakened  by  what  had  occurred.  Had 
you  sought  to  kill  me,  it  would  have  been  all  well.  I  can 
understand  your  feelings;  but  why  did  you  extend  your  ven 
geance  to  my  unfortunate  crew  ?" 

"I  am  ready  to  give  you  satisfaction  now,"  said  Seymour, 
his  passion  getting  the  better  of  his  reason. 

"No,  no,  Madre  de,  Dios!  No,  I  have  had  satisfaction 
enough,  Senhor."  Come,  as  I  have  said,  the  deed  has  been 
done,  and  cannot  be  recalled.  You  were  mad  with  jealousy,  I 
suppose.  I  am  alive,  and  I  forgive  you.  Here  is  my  hand. 
Is  that  enough  ?" 

"  I  cannot  take  your  hand,"  said  Seymour,  again  completely 
abashed,  "  I  have  been  guilty  of  a  crime  which  renders  that 
impossible.  Speak!  what  seek  you  here  ?  Let  me  aid  you  if  I 
can,  and  then  let  us  part." 

"  As  you  please,"  said  De  Sylva;  and,  muttering  inwardly, 
he  added,  "  I  care  not  myself  about  taking  your  hand.  I  have 


392  THE    CABIN    BOY  S    STOR1. 

come  here  to  seek  some  spars,"  he  continued  aloud,  "  for  my  brig 
has  been  knocked  about  sadly  in  the  gale;  and,  as  you  may  per 
ceive,  I  have  lost  my  top-gallant  masts.  But  I  have  a  lady 
passenger  on  board  my  vessel,  and  I  promised  to  fetch  her 
ashore!  It  is  growing  dark,  and  nothing  in  the  way  of  busi 
ness  can  be  done  to-night.  Is  there  a  house  here  where  I  can 
take  her  to  ?" 

"  She  can  rest  in  my  cottage.  Zuleika,  my  wife,  and  a 
female  companion  are  there,"  said  Seymour,  unable  to  repress 
any  longer  his  admiration  of  the  careless  frankness  of  the  young 
Portuguese. 

"  Ah,  then,  if  the  recluse  of  Annabon  is  here,  I  shall  do  my 
self  the  pleasure  of  seeing  her,  with  your  permission.  Diabolo! 
but  I  should  like  again  to  see  the  lady,  through  whom_  I  got 
into  such  a  scrape.  But,  you  speak  of  a  female  companion  : — 
was  that  she  whom  I  saw  here  but  this  moment  ? — she  helped 
to  bring  you  to.  Where  is  she  gone  to?  The  old  woman  was 
as  much  like  a  witch  us  one  could  well  imagine." 

Marca  had  retired  unpreceivcd  as  soon  as  she  saw  that  Sey 
mour  was  reviving,  and  he  had  not  known  of  her  assistance;  but 
he  readily  divined  who  it  was  that  Senhor  de  Sylva  alluded  to, 
and  he  replied  in  the  negative,  observing  that  the  woman  whom 
he  spoke  of  was  an  aged  Greek,  who  sometimes  visited  the 
island. 

"  I  hope  all  the  old  women  here  are  not  like  her,"  said  the 
Portuguese;  "  however,  Senhor,  as  I  find  I  can  procure  the  spars 
I  need  here,  I  will  proceed  on  board  again  and  bring  on  shore 
my  passenger.  It  will  be  a  change  for  her,  poor  thing, 'and 
to-morrow  I  shall  set  my  carpenter  to  work  at  the  spars." 

De  Sylva  returned  on  board  his  brig,  and  speedily  again  dis 
embarked,  and  landed  with  his  carpenter  and  Marie.  While 
he  had  been  absent,  Seymour  had  had  time  to  collect  his  be 
wildered  senses,  and  although  he  could  not  imagine  how  Cap 
tain  De  Sylva  had  escaped  from  the  destruction  he  had  sought 
to  wreak  upon  him  and  his  crew,  he  became  convinced  that  it 
really  was  he  in  propria,  persona,  and  not  his  wraith  that  he 
had  seen,  and  he  felt  a  strange  sensation  of  relief  in  the  know 
ledge  that  one  man,  at  least,  had  escaped  the  demoniacal  ven 
geance  which,  from  the  very  hour  the  dark  deed  had  been 
consummated,  he  had  constantly  and  bitterly  regretted.  "  And 
if  one,"  he  thought,  "  why  not  all  ?"  And  he  uttered  aloud, 
"  Oh,  God  I  would  that  such  were  the  case.  Oh,  that  the 
weight  of  this  dark  deed  of  guilt,  at  least,  were  lifted  from  my 


V 

V 

THE    CABIN    BOY'S    STORY.  393 

soul  !"  But  ere  the  last  cadence  had  fallen  from  his  lips,  a 
voice  above  him  exclaimed  in  Romaic  (in  that  language  had 
h&  spoken)  "He  that  soweth  the  wind  reapeth  the  whirlwind. 
Man,  blood  alone  can  efface  the  stains  from  the  hand  of  him 
who  hath  shed  blood.  But  why  talk  you  of  remorse  ?  Are 
you  the  only  one  who  pineth  and  withereth  beneath  the  curse 
that  a  mis-spent  life  bringeth  ?  Ha,  ha,  ha  !  you  will  have 
good  companionship,  and  a  merry  time  awaits  us  in  the  dark 
shades  of  Hades.  We  shall  be  jovial  together."  There  was  a 
bitter  mockery  in  the  taunting  laugh  with  which  these  words 
had  been  accompanied.  It  was  Marca,  who  spoke  from  the 
rock  above,  but  Seymour's  senses  had  been  so  confused,  his 
mind  so  bewildered,  that  he  did  not  recognize  the  voice,  and  to 
him  it  seemed  as  though  some  supernatural  and  ill-omened 
being  were  taunting  him.  He  stood,  vacantly  gazing  into  the 
mid-air — strange  feelings  of  superstition  rapidly  gaining  the 
mastery  over  him — when  again  he  heard  the  voice  chanting*  in 
a  monotonous  tone  a  string  of  Romaic  verses,  which  may  be 
translated  as  follows  :  * 

"  O'er  the  sea,  o'er  the  sea, 

A  cloud,  fraught  with  the  tempest,  lingers  lowering, 
Above  the  deep  blue  waters,  darkly  hovering 

Unto  you — unto  me, 
Bringing  warning,  as  we  stand  beneath  it  cowering. 

Woe!  woe  I 

"  Can  we  turn  it  from  its  path  ? 

Can  we  hide  us  from  its  wrath? 
Can  we  shun  the  fatal  bolt  o'er  us  impending? 

No — no — 

It  ever  hath  been  so. 

Guilt  can  be  washed  away  alone  in  blood. 
All  else  were  useless,  though  a  second  flood 
Above,  around  us  were  its  force  expending. 

Woe!  woe! 

"  Soon  in  the  grave  shall  aged  Marca  lie  ; 
Welcome,  then,  welcome  be  the  fatal  shaft 

That  shall  avenge  her  evil  deeds  on  earth — 

That  shall  purge  from  her  soul  her  demon-craft, 

And  cleanse  her  spirit  ere  its  second  birth. 

For  oh !  'twere  fearful  thus,  laden  with  sin,  to  die ! 
AVoe !  woe!  woe!"' 

Again  and  again  were  these  rude,  uncouth  verses  repeated, 
and  for  some  time  Seymour  stood  spell-bound — rooted  to  the 
spot.  But  at  length  he  seemed  to  recollect  himself,  and  to  re- 


394 

cognize  the  voice  ;  and  with  a  laugh  of  contempt  at  his  own 
superstitious  fancies,  he  said: 

"  Psha  !  it  is  that  old,  insane  Marca,  chanting  forth  her 
doleful  ditties  from  the  cliff  above  me.  What  folly,  to  allow 
these  superstitious  feelings  to  overpower  me." 

He  directed  his  gaze  towards  the  brig.  The  boat  had  left 
her  side,  and  was  approaching  the  shore,  and  he  drew  nearer 
to  the  landing-place  in  time  to  assist  the  lady  whom  De  Sylva 
had  spoken  of  on  shore,  and  to  welcome  her  to  the  island. 

Marie  was  delighted  once  again  to  set  her  feet,  though  only 
temporarily,  upon  terra  firma,  and  Seymour  invited  her  and 
her  companion  to  the  cottage  where  he  and  Zuleika  dwelt. 

On  his  way  he  said  to  De  Sylva — 

"  Zuleika  believes  that  you  suddenly  left  the  island  of  Anna- 
bon  with  your  schooner  " 

"  I  understand  you,"  replied  De  Sylva.  "  I  shall  keep  a 
still  tongue." 

Seymour  walked  to  the  cottage  in  a  gloomy  mood,  observing 
which,  and  divining  its  cause,  De  Sylva  generously  sought  by 
every  means  in  his  power  to  set  his  mind  at  ease — and  by  his 
gay  conversation  had  pretty  well  succeeded  in  banishing  the 
dark  cloud  ere  they  arrived  at  the  cottage — although  the 
latent  superstition  in  Seymour's  mind  was  again  partially 
aroused,  as  casting  his  eyes  towards  the  promontory,  he  saw 
the  tall  form  of  Marca,  her  right  arm  and  hand  stretched  out, 
and  her  finger  pointing  to  a  fiery  cloud  that  was  apparently 
just  rising  from  the  horizon.  But  he  shook  off  the  superstitious 
fear,  and  muttered  to  himself — 

"  Pshal  it  is  but  an  evening  cloud,  and  the  blood-red  tint  is 
caused  by  the  reflection  upon  it  of  the  rays  of  the  setting  sun." 

They  arrived  at  the  cottage,  and  Zuleika  came  out  to  meet 
them. 

"  I  have  brought  you  visitors,  darling,"  said  Seymour,  "  one 
of  whom  I  think  you  will  recognize.  It  is  Captain  De  Sylva, 
of  the  Portuguese  schooner  which  visited  Annabon." 

"I  do  recognize  and  welcome  Captain  De  Sylva,"  replied 
Zuleika,  at  the  same  time  extending  her  hand  to  him.  The 
gallant  young  Portuguese  respectfully  raised  the  fair  hand  to 
his  lips  and  kissed  it;  and  then  Zuleika  embraced  Marie,  and 
welcomed  her  to  the  cottage  and  to  the  island.  The  females 
retired,  and  the  young  mother  proudly  showed  her  babe  to  her 
visitor,  and  acquainted  Jane  Seymour  with  the  name  of  their 
unexpected  visitor. 


395 

Jane  had  been  equally  ignorant  as  Zulcika  with  regard  to 
the  cause  of  the  sudden  disappearance  of  the  schooner  from 
Annabon,  and  only  thinking  it  a  strange  coincidence  that  they 
should  so  singularly  meet  again,  she  expressed  her  desire  not 
to  see  him,  as  an  interview  must  necessarily  lead  to  an  expla 
nation  with  regard  to  her  former  disguise,  which  would  be 
painful  to  her  delicacy. 

Seymour  and  Be  Sylva  spent  the  remainder  of  the  evening 
together,  until  the  hour  of  retiring  arrived,  when  Marie  was 
invited  to  share  Jane's  bed  with  her,  and  Zuleika  provided  a 
couch  for  De  Sylva  to  repose  upon.  Then  she  and  her  hus 
band  retired  to  their  own  room,  but  not  to  rest ;  the  night 
was  clear  and  starlight,  and  the  heavens  were  free  from  clouds, 
save  the  small,  dark,  fiery,  ill-omened  shadow,  "  scarcely  larger 
than  a  man's  hand,"  which  still  hovered  in  the  western  horizon ; 
and  although  at  any  other  time  it  would  not  have  attracted 
Seymour's  attention,  now,  in  conjunction  with  the  events  of 
the  last  few  hours,  and  the  mystical  warning  of  the  ancient 
sibyl,  Marca,  it  created  an  indefinable  sensation  of  dread — a 
feeling  of  terror  with  regard  to  some  lurking  danger  that  he 
could  not  avert,  nor  fairly  meet,  since  he  knew  not  from  what 
quarter  it  would  assail  him — that  he  could  not  shake  it  off, 
notwithstanding  his  reason  told  him  it  were  folly  thus  to  allow 
his  superstitious  feelings  to  work  upon  his  imagination. 

Zuleika  was  not  sleepy,  and  she  drew  the  cot  in  which  her 
babe  was  reposing  to  a  seat  near  the  window  of  the  chamber, 
and  seated  herself  beside  her  husband  on  the  sofa. 

Both  were  for  some  moments  silent.  Zuleika  was  admiring 
the  calm  beauty  of  the  waters  of  the  ocean,  which  lay  spread 
out  before  her,  smooth  as  a  polished  mirror,  and  reflecting  the 
moon  and  the  myriads  of  stars  in  its  clear,  dark  depths  ;  and 
Seymour  seemed  also  to  be  gazing  at  the  same  object,  but  in 
reality  his  eyes  were  fixed  on  vacancy,  and  busy  thoughts — 
gloomy  forebodings  of  evil — were  active  within  his  breast. 

At  length  Zuleika  turned  from  looking  upon  the  glorious 
moonlit  landscape,  and  directed  her  gaze  upon  an  object  far 
more  beautiful  and  glorious  to  a  mother's  eye — the  sweet,  pla 
cid  features,  and  fat,  dimpled  arms  of  her  babe,  as  it  lay  quietly 
sleeping  in  the  cot  beside  her. 

She  touched  Seymour's  arm. 

"  Does  she  not  look  like  a  little  angel,  George  ?"  she  said— 
"  see  how  she  smiles  in  her  sleep — and  look!  how  tightly  her 
little  hand  clasped  my  finger  as  soon  as  I  touched  it."  The 


396  THE  CABIN  BOY'S  STORY. 

child  awoke  as  she  uttered  these  words,  and  looking  up  with  her 
large,  round,  blue  eyes,  smiled  upon  her  mother,  for  she  was 
already  old  enough  to  know  her,  and  used  all  her  little  efforts 
to  raise  herself  up,  holding  out  her  arms  and  kicking  her  feet 
from  beneath  the  snowy  coverlid.  Zuleika  snatched  her  up  and 
kissing  her  cheeks,  pressed  her  to  her  bosom. 

Seymour  was  looking  on  with  mingled  emotions  of  conjugal 
and  paternal  pride  and  affection.  His  gloomy  thoughts  were 
for  the  time  being  banished. 

"  Had  ever  husband  or  father  more  reason  to  be  grateful  for 
such  a  wife  and  child,"  he  thought,  and  placing  his  arm  round 
Zuleika's  waist,  he  affectionately  embraced  her. 

"  Darling/7  said  he,  "  the  babe  promises  to  become  as  lovely 
as  yourself;  if  she  be  only  as  good  and  pure  and  true,  I  shall, 
indeed,  have  reason  to  be  proud  and  grateful." 

"  And  you  will  be  grateful  to  the  donor  of  this  precious  gift, 
George,  will  you  not  ?  You  will  recollect  what  you  promised 
me  to-day.  We  will  go  together  and  see  old  Otho — and, 
George,  you  will  strive  to  become  a  Christian,  not  only  in  name 
but  in  reality,  for  mine  and  baby's  sake." 

'"  I  will,  dearest.  We  will  go  to-morrow.  Old  Otho  must 
be  provided  for  before  we  leave  this  island  " 

"Which  will  be" 

"  Soon  as  possible,  dear,"  said  Seymour,  interrupting  his  wife, 
who  at  this  moment  was  engaged  with  the  child,  and  did  not 
observe  the  strange  expression  that  came  over  his  features  as 
he  uttered  these  words — an  expression  of  mingled  doubt  and 
fear,  as,  though  he  dreaded  some  immediately-impending  cala 
mity.  And  he  relapsed  into  his  previous  gloomy  reverie. 

Zuleika  looked  up;  and,  noticing  the  gloom  upon  her  hus 
band's  brow,  she  said  in  accents  of  tenderness — 

"  You  seem  dull  and  melancholy,  George;  has  anything  hap 
pened  to  disturb  you  ?  Are  you  unwell  ?" 

"  No,  dear;  I  am  quite  well,  but  I  do  feel  dull  to-night,  and 
yet  I  know  not  why  I  should  do  so.  .  Come,  let  us  seek  our  re 
pose.  Sleep  will  set  me  all  to  rights  again.  And  to-morrow 
we  will  see  Otho,  and  make  some  arrangement  for  the  old  man's 
comfort  for  the  rest  of  his  days.  And  Zuleika,  dear,  when  we 
get  to  France,  I  will  purchase  you  the  Bible  you  so  much  wish 
for;  and  when  we  are  settled  in  some  happy,  retired  home,  we 
will  read  and  study  it  together,  and  you  shall  teach  me  how  to 
become  a  Christian." 

"  Oh,  that  will  be  delightful!"  exclaimed  Zuleika,  with  all 


THE  CABIN  BOY'S  STORY.  397 

the  artlessness  and  glee  of  a  child.  "  And,  dear  George,  I  am 
so  proud  of  you  for" promising  to  save  Otho  from  want  during 
the  rest  of  his  life,  although  it  is  just  like  you.  Do  you  know, 
George,  I  believe  the  poor  old  man  has  often  wanted  food, 
though  he  never  told  me  so;  but  I  once  noticed  the  bareness  of 
his  cupboard,  and  have  carried  provisions  to  him,  and  his  eager 
looks  as  he  took  it  from  my  hands,  spoke  more  than  words. 
Since  that  day  I  have  taken  care,  at  least,  that  his  daily  wants 
were  provided  for,  and  he  has  been  so  thankful.  He  has  not 
said  much,  but  I  have  seen  the  tears  glistening  in  his  eyes,  and 
felt  the  pressure  of  his  hand,  and  watched  his  trembling  lips  as 
he  murmured  his  prayer  of  gratitude  to  the  God  he  endeavors 
to  serve  for  sending  him  relief  through  me.  Oh,  George,  it  is 
a  happy  and  a  blessed  thing  to  be  the  almoner  of  God's 
bounty." 

"  And  may  God  bless  you,  darling,"  was  Seymour's  reply,  as 
again,  tenderly  embracing  her,  he  commenced  to  prepare  him 
self  for  his  night's  repose. 

Zuleika  knelt  to  pray;  she  had  always  been  in  the  practice  of 
doing  so  since  she  had  first  entered  the  convent  school  at  Gren 
ada;  but  this  night,  for  the  first  time  since  he  had  knelt,  when  a 
little  boy,  at  his  mother's  knee,  and  repeated  his  prayers  after 
her,  Seymour  joined  Zuleika  in  her  prayers. 

For  two  hours  all  had  been  silent  in  the  cottage.  Its  in 
mates  were  all  soundly  sleeping.  It  was  past  the  midnight 
hour — and  the  moon  had  set  beneath  the  waters,  and  it  had 
become  comparatively  dark,  although  the  stars  still  shone 
brightly,  and  the  horizon  still  remained  clear — save  the  fiery 
cloud  already  spoken  of  which  had  considerably  increased  in 
size  and  arising  upwards  from  the  horizon,  now  seemed  to  be 
gradually  approaching  the  cottage. 

****** 

The  fleet  of  vessels  which  had  been  descried  in  the  early  part 
of  the  evening  sailing  past  the  island,  were  no  longer  visible. 
They  had  entered  the  bay,  and  borne  upwards  with  a  fair  wind, 
were  making  rapid  progress  towards  the  coast,  under  the  juris 
diction  of  the  unsuspecting  Mohammed  Islam.  All  but  one  ; 
that  one  was  the  felucca,  commanded  in  person  by  Giorgio,  or 
Abdallah — and  Zoe  was  on  board  with  her  son. 

This  .vessel  had  sailed  past  the  island,  and  then,  separating 
from  the  fleet,  Giorgio  had  hauled  the  wind  closely,  and  stood 
again  towards  it,  under  easy  sail,  being  apparently  not  anxious 
to  approach  too  close,  until  after  nightfall.  The  wind,  too,  had 


398  THE    CABIN    BOY'S    STORY. 

become  light,  and  it  was  past  the  midnight  hour  when  Giorgio 
cast  anchor  in  the  haven  opposite  to  the  cottage  where  Sey 
mour  and  Zuleika  resided. 

The  Portuguese  brig  was  in  the  harbor,  and  Giorgio  as  well 
as  Zoe,  were  somewhat  disconcerted  on  perceiving  it. 

The  former  having  ordered  a  boat  to  be  lowered,  pulled  along 
side,  and,  hailing  the  brig,  inquired  if  the  captain  was  on 
board.  He  was  answered  in  the  negative,  being  told  that  he 
had  gone  on  shore  with  a  passenger,  and  was  stopping  on  the 
island  for  the  night. 

"  What  has  brought  you  to  this  island  ?"  demanded  Giorgio 
of  the  contremaistre. 

"  We  have  lost  our  spars  in  the  gale,  as  you  may  perceive," 
replied  the  mate;  "  and  have  come  hitherto  seek  for  others. 
The  carpenter  is  going  on  shore  in  the  morning  to  pick  some 
out." 

Various  other  questions  were  put  and  replied  to,  and  seem 
ingly  satisfied,  the  pirate  chief  left  the  side,  greatly  to  the  relief 
of  the  honest  Portuguese  mate,  who  did  not,  by  half,  like  the 
proximity  of  the  suspicious-looking  Greek  vessel. 

Giorgio  returned  on  board. 

"  It  is  the  brig  we  saw  in  the  morning,  which  has  come  in 
here  disabled,"  he  said.  "  It  has  happened  rather  inoppor 
tunely  for  our  plans,  since  the  captain  is  on  shore,  and  I  see, 
besides,  that  the  brig  carries  six  guns." 

11  Nevertheless,"  returned  Zoe,  "  our  purpose  must  be  ef 
fected.  And  you — you  are  not  so  cowardly  as  to  fear  the  rusty 
guns  of  a  merchantman,  which  will  perhaps  burst  in  the  dis 
charge — and  which  at  all  events  are  in  general  pretty  harmless 
in  their  effects,"  and  she  laughed  contemptuously  and  deridingly 
as  she  spoke. 

"  I  am  not  afraid,"  replied  Giorgio,  "  and  whatever  man 
dares  to  do,  dare  I.  Nevertheless,  it  were  well  if  this  brig 
was  out  of  the  way.  Her  commander  is  on  shore,  and  we  may 
find  more  resistance  than  we  anticipated." 

"  And  if  we  do,  those  who  oppose  us  must  die,"  replied  Zoe. 
"  How  long  have  you  grown  dainty  in  your  trade,  and  sought 
to  spare  human  blood,  when  your  purpose  demanded  that  it 
should  be  shed  ?" 

"  Nay,  mother,"  said  Giorgio,  "  taunt  me  not  with  cowardice, 
for  you  know  that  I  know  not  what  it  is  ;  and  as  to  spilling 
blood — I  have  never  quailed  from  it  when  it  has  been  necessary. 
Still,  I  would  avoid  useless  carnage  ;  nor  was  I  aware  that  it 


THE    CABIN    BOY'S    STORY.  399 

was  your  purpose  to  shed  blood,  unless  it  were  necessary  in  our 
own  defence." 

"Nor  is  it,"  replied  Zoo,  fiercely;  "but  every  one  who  lifts 
a  hand  to  oppose  us  must  be  smitten  mercilessly  to  the  earth. 
The  Frank  and  the  stranger  who  is  with  him — even  Bedita 
herself  must  die,  if  she  cannot  be  brought  off  alive.  But  I 
wish  her  to  live,  with  her  child.  I  wish  to  witness  the  anguish 
of  the  mother,  when  the  child  is  taken  from  her,  and  she  is  ex 
posed  for  sale  in  the  slave  mart.  I  wish  to  have  full  and  com 
plete  vengeance,  and  the  hour  so  long  sought  for  has  arrived. 
I  wish  to  see  Leila's  child  experience  all  the  anguish  that  I  felt 
when  her  mother's  baby  charms  caused  my  lord  to  spurn  me 
and  to  disown  my  son.  Think  of  this,  Abdallah.  Think  that 
this  minion's  mother  was  the  slave  who  caused  you  to  be  cast 
off,  and  your  birthright  to  be  reft  from  you.  Think  of  this, 
son  of  mine,  and  let  the  thought  steel  your  heart,  and  nerve 
your  arm  to  vengeance." 

Zoe  knew  that  she  had  touched  the  right  chord.  The  eyes 
of  the  young  man  glistened  with  rage  as  his  mother  recalled  to 
his  recollection  the  history  of  the  wrongs  in  which  he  had  been 
schooled  from  his  earliest  youth,  and  drawing  his  scimitar,  and 
raising  his  right  arm  on  high,  he  made  the  sign  of  the  Greek 
cross  on  his  breast  with  the  left,  and  exclaimed  : 

"  I  swear  vengeance,  implacable  vengeance,  upon  the  de 
scendants  of  Vicenzo  and  Leila  I" 

"  Enough,  enough,  my  son,"  said  Zoe.  "  Now  let  us  ar 
range  our  plan  of  action." 

The  mother  and  son  conferred  together.  What  was  the 
purport  of  their  conversation  may  best  be  learned  by  that 
which  followed. 

Half  an  hour  afterwards  two  boats  with  wild-looking  men 
left  the  side  of  the  felucca,  and  in  the  stern  sheets  of  the  fore 
most  one  were  seated  Giorgio  and  Zoe. 

Could  any  one  have  watched  the  countenance  of  Zoe,  as  the 
boat  was  pulled  on  shore  on  that  eventful  night,  he  could  not 
have  helped  being  struck  with  its  dark,  strange  expression ;  yet 
it  was  a  handsome  face.  Zoe  was  beautiful  still,  although  she 
had  long  passed  the  period  of  life  when  the  beauty  of  most 
women  wanes,  even  the  beauty  of  those  born  and  nurtured  in 
more  northern  climes,  and  daughters  of  a  colder  r.ace.  She 
had  reached  the  period  of  life  when  amongst  the  daughters  of 
the  South,  the  peerless  charms  which  have  called  forth  the 
adoration  of  the  poet,  and  have  imbued  the  brush  of  the  painter 


400  THE    CABIN    BOY'S    STORY. 

and  the  chisel  of  the  sculptor  with  the  spirit  of  inspiration, 
have,  in  a  great  majority  of  cases,  passed  away,  "  and  left  no 
sign  ;"  the  blooming  maiden  has  blushed  and  blossomed  into 
the  comely  matron  ;  Hebe  has  ripened  into  Juno,  and  for  a 
few  years — a  very  few  years — Juno  has  reigned  the  queen  of 
majesty  and  grace;  then  has  come  the  autumn — the  fall  of  the 
leaf — not  slowly  and  gently  subsiding  into  winter,  but  its  wan 
ing  charms  withering  with  the  rapidity  of  a  plucked  flower 
scorching  beneath  the  rays  of  a  summer  sun.  Of  the  Hebe  of 
but  ten  years  ago— of  the  Juno  of  but  half  that  period— there 
remains  a  toothless,  wrinkled  hag,  in  whose  complexion  of  ma 
hogany,  and  in  whose  wrinkled  and  shrunken  features,  not  a 
vestige  can  be  traced  of  the  elegance  arid  grace  that  but  com 
paratively  a  short  time  before  might  have  charmed  the 
cold  heart  of  an  anchorite.  Even  the  voice— the  gentle  voice, 
that  thing  so  sweet  in  woman — has  changed ;  no  longer  lowly, 
gently,  slowly  does  it  plead,  and  plead  but  to  conquer  the 
sterner  sex — no  longer  is  it  heard  in  bursts  of  musical  laugh 
ter,  compared  with  which  the  sweetest  artistic  sounds  are  in 
harmonious—but  harsh  and  cracked,  it  has  become  discordant 
in  its  tones,  even  when  its  utterer  would  strive  most  to  please. 
Such  is  the  penalty  that  the  all-fascinating  charms  of  ^  Italians 
and  Greeia's  daughters  must  pay  for  their  brief  spring  and 
summer  of  loveliness.  But  with  Zoe  it  was  not  thus.  Her 
beauty  had  partaken  more  of  a  masculine  character,  and  she 
seemed  to  have  inherited  with  it  a  masculine  endurance  ;  and 
any  one  who  had  seen  her  features  as  she  sat  in  the  stern 
sheets  of  the  boat  which  bore  her,  as  she  hoped,  to  witness  the 
consummation  of  her  long  cherished  desire  for  vengeance — per 
fect — complete — would  have  likened  her  to  a  beautiful  fury — 
a  fallen  angel,  whose  beauty  had  not  withered,  though  she  had 
become  an  outcast  from  paradise ;  but  in  whose  face  the  demo 
niac  passions  which  had  lured  her  on  to  the  wreck  of  her 
hopes,  to.  the  loss  of  her  eternal  beatitude,  had  imprinted  their 
indelible  marks,  still  without  power  to  utterly  obliterate  the 
stamp  of  the  divinity  which  had  originally  been  imprinted  upon 
her  features. 

Giorgio— as  he  was  called  by  his  band,  although  Zoe  ever 
called  him  by  the  name  of  Abdallah— had  already,  as  it  ap 
peared,  forgotten  the  words  which  had  caused  the  blood  to 
tingle  in  his  veins,  and  awakened  in  him  something  of  the  vin 
dictive  spirit  of  his  mother.  The  well-spring  which  had  been 
touched,  and  which  had  aroused  snch  an  ebullition  of  fearful 


THE    CABIN    BOY'S    STORY.  401 

passion,  had  as  suddenly  subsided,  as  soon  as  the  hand  that 
touched  it  had  been  withdrawn  ;  and  though  the  expression  of 
his  countenance  was  still  fierce  and  fearless,  the  features  had 
assumed  their  characteristic  careless  recklessness.  Silently  the 
rowers  pulled  towards  the  shore  ;  the  boat  stranded  on  the 
sand,  and  the  crew,  all  but  one — to  whom  its  keeping  was  con 
fided — sprang  ashore  ;  and  again  Giorgio  and  Zoe  stepped 
aside  and  communed  with  each  other  on  the  beach. 
#*#*  #  *  *  * 

Seymour  and  Zuleika  were  sleeping  ;  but  the  slumbers  of 
the  latter  were  strangely  disturbed,  and  every  now  and  then 
she  awoke  with  a  start  and  listened  earnestly,  as  though  in 
her  dreams  she  had  heard  some  fearful  noise,  or  seen  some 
frightful  object;  but  all  was  still,  save  the  hollow,  melancholy 
murmur  of  the  surf,  which,  as  has  already  been  mentioned, 
perpetually  broke  upon  the  rocky  coast  to  windward  of  the 
cottage,  and  Zuleika  would  pass  her  hand  over  the  head  of  her 
husband  to  satisfy  herself  that  he  was  beside  her,  and  then 
pressing  her  baby  to  her  breast,  would  smile  at  her  own  fears, 
and  endeavor  to  compose  herself  to  sleep  again  ;  but  only 
again  and  again  to  awaken  in  a  similar  condition  of  affright. 

It  is  a  strange,  an  inexplicable  mystery,  that  forewarning, 
which,  let  sophists  say  what  they  may,  is  often  manifest  in  our 
dreams  previous  to  the  occurrence  of  any  great  calamity.  We 
know  not  why  our  slumbers  should  be  more  disturbed  than 
usual  without  any  apparent  catfse.  We  know  not  how  it  is 
that  little  trifling  occurrences,  which  in  ordinary  times  would 
pass  unnoticed,  are  all  magnified  into  matters  of  moment;  but 
so  it  is  ;  and  it  is  one  of  the  hidden  mysteries  of  natural  phi 
losophy  which  man  is  unable  to  fathom. 

Again  Zuleika  awoke,  and  this  time  she  felt  assured  that  it 
was  not  alone  the  melancholy  music  of  the  surf  which  disturbed 
the  solemn  silence  of  the  night.  She  fancied  she  heard  the 
voices  of  men,  borne  faintly  and  indistinctly  to  her  ears  upon 
the  scarcely  perceptible  zephyrs;  and  greatly  terrified,  although 
unwilling  to  arouse  Seymour  without  sufficient  cause,  she  sat 
up  in  her  bed  to  listen  and  to  assure  herself  that  her  fancy  was 
not  playing  her  false.  No  ;  nearer  and  nearer  seemed  the 
voices  to  advance,  and  now  her  quick  ear — for  every  sense  was 
peculiarly  active  at  this  moment — detected  the  measured  tramp 
of  footsteps — trodden  lightly  and  softly,  yet  distinctly  audible. 
She  sprang  from  her  bed,  and  peeped  out  from  the  casement. 
She  had  not  been  deceived,  for  stealthily  approaching  tho  cot- 


402 

tage  from  the  shore  was  a  band  of  men,  and  two  vessels  were 
now  visible  in  the  harbor  where  only  one  had  lain  at  anchor 
when  she  had  retired  to  rest.  She  could  barely  distinguish  the 
outlines  of  the  forms  of  the  men  as  they  approached,  for  the  moon 
had  gone  down,  as  we  heretofore  mentioned,  and  the  pale 
twinkling  of  the  stars  was  partially  obscured,  for  the  ominous 
cloud  which  had  been  observed  rising  from  the  waters  in  the 
distant  horizon,  now  had  so  increased  in  size  as  to  cover  half 
the  heavens,  and  it  hung  directly  over  the  cottage.  Greatly 
alarmed,  she  stepped  back  from  the  window,  and  retreating  to 
the  bed,  touched  her  husband  on  the  shoulder. 

"Wake,  George,  wake,"  she  said;  "there  are  men  advanc 
ing  towards  our  cottage,  and  a  strange  sail — one  of  the  fleet 
I  saw  yesterday,  I  think — is  at  anchor  in  the  bay." 

Seymour  sprang  up  from  the  bed,  and  hurried  to  the  win 
dow.  The  men  had  approached  nearer,  and  he  at  once  sus 
pected  them  to  be  a  party  of  marauders  who  had  landed  on 
the  island  with  the  object  of  robbery.  He  hastily  threw  on 
his  clothing,  and  descended  to  the  apartment  occupied  by  De 
Sylva,  whom  he  informed  of  the  presence  of  the  pirates,  and 
of  his  suspicions  of  an  attack  upon  the  cottage.  In  a  few 
moments  the  Portuguese  had  put  on  his  clothing,  and  Seymour 
having  handed  him  a  pair  of  pistols  and  a  cutlass,  he  re-as 
cended  to  Zuleika,  and  desired  her  to  retire  into  the  chamber 
occupied  by  Marie  and  Jane. 

"  Is  there  danger  of  an  attack,  George  ?"  she  asked. 

"There is,  darling;  but  when  they  find  we  are  prepared  for 
them  they  will  very  probably  retire,"  said  Seymour. 

" Then,"  replied  Zuleika,  "my  place  is  beside  my  husband 
and  our  babe.  I  will  not  leave  you." 

There  was  no  time  for  farther  parley;  the  band  had  reached 
the  little  ihclosure  surrounding  the  cottage,  and  it  was  evident 
from  their  movements  that  they  had  no  suspicion  that  their 
approach  had  been  discovered.  One,  who  appeared  to  be  the 
leader,  stood  aside  with  a  tall  female,  and  conversed  for  some 
moments,  and  then,  as  he  made  a  sign  to  his  followers,  the 
whole  party  stealthily  advanced.  Zuleika,  holding  her  babe, 
whom  she  had  snatched  from  the  cot,  in  her  arms,  was  looking 
out  from  the  window,  while  Seymour  and  De  Sylva  were  examin 
ing  the  priming  of  their  firearms.  Suddenly  she  exclaimed  : 

"  George,  the  woman  approaching  is  Zoe.  What  can  be 
the  meaning  of  this  ?  Surely  they  are  friends.  They  can  in 
tend  us  no  harm." 


403 

But  Seymour  thought  differently.  For  the  first  time  an 
idea  of  the  real  object  of  the  marauders  flashed  upon  him. 

"  Zoe  !"  he  exclaimed,  and,  peeping  from  the  window,  he 
added,  "  It  is  indeed!  Then  there  is  nothing  left  for  us  but 
defence  to  the  last." 

He  whispered  a  few  words  to  De  Sylva,  and  the  two  men 
approached  the  casement,  having  desired  Zuleika  (who  had 
been  joined  by  Marie  and  Jane,  both  of  whom  had  been 
alarmed  by  the  noise  in  the  cottage)  to  retire  to  an  adjoining 
apartment. 

The  band  were  now  close  to  the  cottage,  and  were  evidently 
preparing  to  surround  it,  with  the  intention  of  forcing  an  en 
trance,  when  Seymour  discharged  a  pistol  over  the  head  of 
their  leader.  They  were  taken  so  completely  by  surprise  that 
many  of  them  showed  symptoms  of  retreating,  being  probably 
under  the  impression  that  several  of  the  brig's  crew  were  in 
the  cottage,  and  that  the  attack  had  been  anticipated.  They 
were,  however,  addressed  by  Zoe,  who,  with  energetic  action, 
stigmatized  them  as  cowards,  and  urged  them-  at  once  to  enter 
the  cottage. 

At  this  moment  Seymour  opened  the  casement,  and  de 
manded,  in  the  Romaic  dialect,  what  they  wanted. 

The  leader  replied,  in  the  same  dialect — 

"  We  demand  the  rendition  of  Bedita,  who  is  a  daughter  of 
our  race,  and  is  unlawfully  detained  by  the  Frank,  who  has 
assumed  the  proprietorship  of  this  island,  which  belongs  to  us. 
Deliver  up  Bedita,  and  we  will  retire." 

"  Never  1"  replied  Seymour  ;  and  hardly  had  the  words  es 
caped  his  lips  when  a  pistol-shot  entered  the  casement  above 
his  head  and  lodged  in  the  wall  behind  him. 

There  was  a  suppressed  shriek  from  Marie  and  Jane,  and 
Seymour  turned  his  head,  fearing  that  some  one  had  been  hit. 
He  saw,  however,  that  the  females  were  merely  frightened. 
Zuleika,  still  holding  her  babe,  although  pale  as  marble,  showed 
a  spirit  that  he  little  dreamed  she  possessed. 

"It  is  nothing,  George,"  she  said.  "  Jane  was  frightened 
at  the  sound  of  the  pistol,  but  she  will  not  shriek  again.  I 
heard  what  was  said,  and  I  trust  all  to  you.  Alive,  neither 
you  nor  I  will  fall  into  the  hands  of  these  men,  though  God 
knows  why  they  should  seek  to  injure  me." 

Seymour  kissed  her  cheek  and  pressed  her  hand,  but  with 
out  replying,  he  returned  to  the  side  of  De  Sylva.  There  were 
ten  or  twelve  men  in  the  band,  and  fancying  that  the  pistol- 


404  THE  CABIN  BOY  S  STORY. 

shot  had  taken  effect,  as  they  had  heard  the  shriek,  they 
rushed  in  a  body  to  the  cottage  porch,  evidently  with  the  in 
tention  of  forcing  the  door. 

"  Take  good  aim  and  fire,"  said  Seymour  to  De  Sylva,  and 
at  the  same  moment  the  report  of  two  pistols  were  heard,  and 
two  of  the  pirates  fell  to  the  earth,  rolling  over  and  tearing  up 
the  soil  in  handfulls  in  their  agony. 

A  volley  from  the*  band  was  the  reply  to  this  demonstration 
of  determination  on  the  part  of  the  beseiged,  but  Seymour  and 
De'Sylva  had  retired  into  the  recess  behind  the  casement,  and 
again  the  balls  entered  the  room  and  lodged  in  the  walls.  This 
time  the  terrified  females  were  silent.  Their  first  alarm  had 
subsided,  and  with  the  passive  courage  and  presence  of  mind 
so  often  displayed  by  women  in  the  hour  of  danger,  they 
quietly  took  the  discharged  pistols  which  Seymour  and  De 
Sylva  had  laid  aside,  and  proceeded  to  reload  them.  It  was 
hazardous  now  for  either  Seymour  or  the  Portuguese  to  show 
themselves  at  the  casement;  instant  death  would  have  been  the 
result  of  such  rashness.  They  could  only,  therefore,  keep  up  an 
irregular  and  ill-directed  fire,  unconscious  whether  or  not  their 
shots  took  effect. 

Now  all  was  silent  without,  and  the  beseiged  party  began  to 
entertain  the  hope  that  the  assailants,  finding  that  they  had 
been  resolutely  met,  had  withdrawn,  and  Seymour  was  in  the 
act  of  approaching  the  window  to  reconnoitre,  when  De  Sylva 
laid  his  hand  upon  his  arm — 

"  Do  you  not  smell  smoke  ?"  he  asked;  "  and  hark!  there  is 
the  crackling  of  burning  timber  ;  the  wretches  have  fired  the 


cottage." 


Hardly  had  he  spoken,  when  a  volume  of  smoke  burst  into  the 
apartment,  so  dense  and  stifling  that  they  could  hardly  draw 
their  breaths,  and  in  another  moment  the  boards  began  to  grow 
heated  beneath  their  feet,  and  the  flames  burst  through  the 
slight  flooring.  To  stay  a  moment  longer  in  the  room  would 
have  insured  the  destruction  of  the  whole  party.  To  flee 
seemed  alike  to  threaten  them  with  instant  death  at  the  hands 
of  the  now  infuriated  pirates.  In  fact,  there  was  no  hope  of 
escape,  and  a  very  few  moments  would  have  witnessed 
the  sacrifice  of  Seymour  and  De  Sylva,  and  the  capture  of  the 
women,  had  not  an  unforeseen  diversion  in  their  favor  attracted 
the  attention  of  the  assailants,  and  rendered  it  necessary  for 
them  to  defend  themselves  on  their  part  from  an  attack  they 
had  not  anticipated.  The  mate  of  the  Portuguese  brig  had 


THE  CABIN  BOY'S  STORY.  405 

been  much  alarmed  at  the  appearance  of  the  felucca  in  the  bay, 
and  the  questions  that  had  been  asked  by  the  commander  of 
the  suspicious-looking  vessel  had  not  seemed  to  quiet  his  appre 
hensions.  He  had  kept  the  night-watch  himself,  had  seen  the 
departure  of  the  boat  from  the  side  of  the  felucca,  and  had 
watched  their  movements  after  they  had  landed  upon  the  shore 
as  well  as  he  was  able  to  do  with  the  aid  of  a  night-teloscope. 
He  had  heard  the  report  of  the  first  pistol,  fired  by  Seymour, 
and  the  faithful  fellow,  believing  his  captain,  who  was  a  favor 
ite  with  all  on  board,  to  be  in  danger,  had  called  five  of  the 
seamen  out  of  the  seven  comprising  the  crew,  and,  putting  him 
self  at  their  head,  had  landed  and  reached  the  scene  of  the 
affray  just  at  the  moment  when  the  pirates,  exasperated  at  the 
opposition  they  had  met  with,  and  at  the  loss  of  two  of  their 
comrades,  had  fired  the  cottage. 

The  island  was  but  sparsely  inhabited,  but  the  simple  fisher 
men  and  their  families  had  in  the  short  space  of  time  that  had 
elapsed  since  Seymour  had  brought  Zuleika  thither,  became 
much  attached  to  them,  and  the  male  inmates  of  two  cottages 
that  were  located  near  that  occupied  by  Seymour  and  Zuleika 
had  been  alarmed  by  the  unwonted  sound  of  firearms,  and  when 
the  crew  of  the  brig  approached,  they  at  the  request  of  the 
mate  had  joined  them,  thus  augmenting  the  force  to  seven  men, 
who  arrived  opportunely,  just  at  the  moment  when,  after  hav 
ing  succeeded  in  firing  the  cottage,  the  pirates  imagined  they 

had  secured  an  easy  prey. 

*  *  #  *  *  * 

"  We  can  endure  this  no  longer  ;  death  in  open  fight  were 
preferable  to  be  smothered  and  consumed  amid  this  smoke  and 
flame/'  said  Seymour,  and  snatching  the  infant  from  Zuleika's 
arms,  while  with  his  left  arm  he  encircled  the  slender  waist 
of  his  young  wife,  he  called  upon  Jane  Miller  to  follow  him, 
and  rushed  through  the  stifling  smoke  as  though  he  was  un 
encumbered  by  any  weight,  while  De  Sylva  caught  up  Marie  in 
similar  fashion,  and  followed  close  after  him.  The  poor  girls 
uttered  not  one  cry  of  alarm.  As  we  have  said,  the  moment 
they  had  realized  a  sense  of  their  danger,  they  had  not  only 
refrained  from  showing  any  outward  signs  of  fear,  save  the 
pallor  of  their  cheeks  ;  but  they  had  done  their  best  to  aid  in 
the  gallant  though  useless  endeavor  to  hold  the  cottage  against 
its  assailants  ;  now  they  readily  submitted  themselves  to  the 
guidance  of  their  protectors,  and  in  the  course  of  a  few  mo 
ments  they  were  breathing  gratefully  the  pure  air  of  the  night 


406  THE  CABIN  BOY'S  STORY. 

— a  happy  relief,  for  they  had  been  nearly  suffocated  in  the 
cottage. 

A  sad  scene  of  desolation,  however,  met  their  gaze  when 
they  had  gained  the  open  air.  The  light,  fragile  structure 
they  had  just  quitted  was  already  doomed  ;  in  less  than  five 
minutes  it  was  a  mere  heap  of  smouldering  ruins. 

Meanwhile  the  pirates,  on  meeting  the  unexpected  opposition 
from  the  crew  of  the  brig  and  the  two  Greek  fishermen,  had 
endeavored  to  retreat  towards  the  beach,  still  fighting  as  they 
fled ;  and  they  had  been  followed  by  the  assailants. 

The  report  of  pistols  and  the  clash  of  steel  was  heard  by  the 
party  that  had  just  effected  a  narrow  escape  from  the  burning 
cottage,  and  as  soon  as  Seymour  and  De  Sylva  had  in  some 
measure  recovered  from  the  effects  of  the  smoke,  they  rushed 
forward  in  the  direction  whence  the  sounds  of  strife  proceeded, 
followed  by  the  women,  whom  no  persuasions  could  induce  to  re 
main  behind.  They  were  ignorant  of  the  nature  of  the  diver 
sion  that  had  been  made  in  their  favor  ;  but  Seymour  and  De  Syl 
va  had  become  excited  for  the  affray,  and  rushed  to  mingle  in  it 
with  the  ardor  of  bloodhounds. 

When  they  reached  the  beach,  they  found  a  deadly  fight 
raging  with  the  utmost  fury  on  both  sides.  The  parties,  since 
the  death  of  the  two  Greek  sailors,  who  had  fallen  on  the  first 
discharge  from  the  pistols  of  Seymour  and  De  Sylva,  were  very 
nearly  matched,  although  still  the  pirates  had  rather  the  supe 
riority  in  point  of  numbers.  One  of  the  Portuguese  seamen 
and  another  one  of  the  Greeks  had  fallen  on  the  beach,  and 
now,  there  being  no  time  to  re-load  the  firearms,  a  terrific 
hand-to-hand  combat  had  commenced,  in  which  Zoe  was  ob 
served  to  take  an  active  part.  She  had  seized  a  cutlass  from 
the  rigid  hand  of  the  dead  Greek  sailor,  and  was  dealing  furi 
ous  blows  with  it  on  all  sides.  The  men,  who  rushed  wildly 
and  recklessly  upon  the  Greeks,  shrunk  back  from  the  fury  of 
the  Amazon. 

When  Seymour  and  De  Sylva  reached  the  spot,  the  former 
readily  recognized  the  two  Greek  fishermen  who  had  arrayed 
themselves  on  his  side,  and  the  latter  as  readily  recognized  his 
own  gallant  tars.  Raising  a  shout  of  defiance,  he  plunged  in 
amongst  them,  followed  by  Seymour  ;  and  the  Greeks,  Seeing 
the  reinforcement,  showed  signs  of  wavering.  They  would 
have  fled  to  their  boat,  but  they  were  rallied  by  Giorgio  ;  and 
again  the  desperate  conflict  commenced  with  renewed  energy 
and  fury  on  both  sides.  In  the  heat  of  the  strife,  Seymour  had 


THE  CABIN  BOY'S  STORY.  407 

not  noticed  that  Zoe  had  withdrawn  herself  from  the  affray, 
and  right  and  left  were  he  and  his  gallant  band  dealing  their 
blows,  with  every  prospect  of  eventual  success,  for  two  more 
of  the  pirates  had  fallen,  when  his  attention  was  arrested  by  a 
fearful  shriek  from  Zuleika.  Wildly,  he  turned  his  head  in  the 
direction  whence  the  sound  proceeded,  and  saw  her  in  the  dim 
light,  struggling  in  the  powerful  clutches  of  Zoe,  who  had  near 
ly  reached  the  boat  with  her,  and  who  was  calling  upon  the 
pirates  to  cease  the  strife,  and  follow  her,  and  thus  make  their 
escape  with  their  prize  on  board  the  felucca.  • 

Maddened  with  what  he  saw,  Seymour  was  thrown  off  his 
guard,  and  his  left  arm  was  rendered  powerless  by  a  heavy 
blow  from  the  scimetar  of  a  Greek  sailor  with  whom  he  was 
desperately  fighting  when  the  fearful  scream  had  called  his  at 
tention  from  his  opponent.  The  Greek  saw  his  advantage,  and 
a  second  blow  would  have  ended  Seymour's  life,  had  not  De 
Sylva  observed  his  danger,  and  rushing  towards  him  struck  the 
pirate  a  sweeping  blow  with  the  heavy  cutlass  he  carried,  which 
clove  him  from  the  crown  of  his  head  to  the  shoulder  blade. 
The  seaman  fell  to  the  ground,  then  rolled  over  and  over  in 
agony,  and  then,  springing  half  up,  fell  heavily  upon  the  earth, 
dead,  while  the  blood  spouted  in  a  black  stream  from  his  throat, 
and  dyed  and  saturated  the -sand  around  him. 

Seymour  was  severely  wounded  ;  a  crimson  stream  was  pour 
ing  from  his  arm  ;  but,  heedless  of  the  pain,  he  rushed  madly 
to  the  boat  just  in  time  to  reach  it  before  Zoe  had  succeeded  in 
launching  it  from  the  sand  into  deep  water — there,  weakened 
with  the  loss  of  blood,  he  fell  senseless  into  the  ebbing  waters, 
and  would  have  drowned,  had  he  not  been  dragged  forth  by  one 
of  the  Greek  fishermen,  who  happily  arrived  in  time  to  rescue 
him. 

Giorgio  had  rushed  to  the  assistance  of  Zoe,  and  the  rem 
nant  of  his  band,  seeing  now  that  the  odds  were  against  them, 
were  also  making  all  haste  to  reach  the  boat,  which  they  would 
have  succeeded  in  shoving  off,  had  not  De  Sylva  taken  the  op 
portunity  to  reload  his  pistol.  He  fired  it  at  Giorgio,  who  fell 
mortally  wounded  into  the  water. 

Zuleika  had  fainted  in  the  arms  of  Zoe,  but  the  infant  was 
screaming  fearfully  ;  and,  aroused  to  consciousness  by  the  voice 
of  his  child,  Seymour  sat  up  and  loading  his  pistol  hastily,  fired 
it  at  a  tall  female  who  had  at  that  moment,  for  the  first  time 
made  her  appearance  at  the  scene  of  strife,  and  snatched  the 
infant  from  the  arms  of  Zoo. 


408  THE  CABIN 

A  yell  of  agony  burst  from  the  aged  Marea,  for  it  was  she 
who,  with  what  purpose  must  forever  remain  unknown,  had 
snatched  the  infant  from  her  daughter's  arms— and  a  piercing 
shriek  of  pain  from  the  infant,  told  that  the  shot  had  a  double 
effect  ;  Marca  fell,  still  holding  the  babe  in  her  arms,  and  when 
De  Sylva  rushed  forward  to  take  the  infant  from  her,  both 
were  dead  ;  the  ball  had  passed  through  the  body  of  the  babe, 
and  had  lodged  in  Marca's  heart.  Seymour  in  a  moment  of 
plirenzy  had  shot  his  own  child. 

When  Zoe  saw  her  son  fall,  she  dashed  aside  the  fainting 
form  of  Zuleika,  who  fell  senseless  on  the  sand,  and  rushing 
.nto  the  water,  she  fell  upon  him,  caught  him  in  her  embrace, 
and  with  wild  energy  sought  to  staunch  the  blood  which  gushed 
in  a  dark  stream  from  his  side,  with  her  long  black  hair,  the 
meanwhile  lavishing  upon  him  every  expression  of  endearment 
with  which  the  Greek  vocabulary  is  so  rich,  and  mingling  with 
those  expressions  of  endearment*terrific  objurgations  upon  his 
murderers;  then,  suddenly  springing  up,  she  rushed  towards  the 
prostrate  form  of  Zuleika,  and  drawing  a  dagger  from  her  gir 
dle,  raised  her  arm  in  the  air,  and  struck  with  deadly  force  at 
the  breast  of  the  unconscious  girl.  - 

At  the  moment  she  raised  her  arm  a  pistol  shot  from  De 
Sylva  broke  the  bone,  but  it  was  too  late;  the  arm  fell  feebly, 
but  the  convulsive  shudder  which  shook  the  frame  of  Zuleika 
told  too  truly  that  Zoe  had  partially,  at  least,  succeeded  in  her 
murderous  design. 

The  remnant  of  the  crew  of  the  felucca,  reduced  to  three  in 
number,  finding  that  they  had  been  completely  defeated,  and 
that  their  leaders  had  fallen,  put  off  to  their  vessel,  which  was 
immediately  got  under  weigh,  and  before  daylight  they  were 
far  from  the  island,  bound  to  rejoin  their  comrades,  and  to  re 
port  to  them  the  sad  failure  of  their  ill-starred  expedition.  ^ 

A  sad,  sad  scene  greeted  the  approach  of  morn  on  Zuleika's 
Isle.  Iii  the  cabin  of  one — the  surviving  one  of  the  fishermen 
who  had  so  generously  aided  in  the  defence  of  the  cottage— 
the  remnant  of  those  who,  full  of  life  and  hope,  but  yesterday 
had  met  in  the  deadly  conflict  of  the  night,  were  assembled. 
Of  the  five  men  belonging  to  the  Portuguese  brig,  but  three 
were  living.  De  Sylva  had  escaped  unscathed,  although  he 
had  been  most  daring  in  the  affray.  Seymour  was  sitting  in  a 
chair  beside  the  rude  couch  which  supported  the  dying  Zu 
leika,  scarcely  able  to  support  himself  upright  in  consequence 
of  the  weakness  occasioned  by  the  loss  of  blood,  with  a  face 


THE    CABIN    BOif's    STORY.  409 

pallid  as  marble,  and  so  overpowered  with  grief  that  he  scarcely 
knew  what  he  was  doing  or  where  he  was  ;  while  ever  and 
anon  he  burst  forth  in  bitter  lamentations  that  he  had  not 
fallen  in  the  fight  rather  than  have  been  spared  to  suffer  the 
misery  he  now  endured.  On  a  table  near  the  couch  was 
stretched  the  corpse  of  the  infant,  still  smiling  sweetly,  even  in 
death;  and  beside  the  pale  corpse  were  seated  Marie  and  Jane, 
dissolved  in  tears.  They  had  been  impotent  yet  anguished 
witnesses  of  the  direful  affray  of  the  previous  night. 

Zuleika  was  still  breathing,  but  from  the  moment  she  had 
received  the  fatal  blow  she  had  not  spoken,  and  the  gurgling 
in  her  throat  told  that  her  dissolution  was  at  hand. 

Unable  to  endure  the  harrowing  scene,  De  Sylva  quitted  the 
cabin  to  breathe  the  fresh  sea  breeze  of  the  morning.  He 
wandered  to  the  beach,  which,  during  the  night,  had  been  the 
scene  of  strife.  There  still  lay  the  dead  bodies  of  his  own  gal 
lant  crew,  and  that  of  the  fisherman  who  had  perished  in  the 
defence  of  his  patron.  And  there,  too,  lay  the  stiffened  corpses 
of  the  Greek  pirates,  and  that  of  the  ancient  sibyl,  Marca, 
hideously  revolting  in  death  ;  but  there  were  yet  two  others 
lying  beneath  the  water,  a  short  distance  from  the  shore,  barely 
covered  by  the  tide.  These  were  the  bodies  of  Zoe  and  Ab- 
dallah.  De  Sylva  drew  them,  with  some  difficulty,  on  shore, 
for  the  form  of  the  pirate  chief  was  tightly  clasped  in  the  em 
brace  of  the  female.  His  death,  it  was  evident,  had  been 
caused  by  the  ball,  which  had  penetrated  his  side  and  pierced 
his  vitals  ;  but  Zoe  showed  no  wound  but  the  broken  arm. 
She  had  crawled  from  the  spot  where  she  had  fallen  to  seek 
and  embrace  her  son,  and  had  died,  not  Jrom  the  effect  of  the 
wound  she  had  received,  but  from  the  intensity  of  her  own 
emotions — the  thought  of  the  ruin  and  death  she  had  brought 
upon  the  only  one  being  she  loved — the  consciousness  that  she 
had  failed  in  her  diabolical  attempts,  and  that  her  hopes  of 
satiating  her  vengeance  according  to  her  own  desires  were  for 
ever  frustrated. 

De  Sylva  returned  to  the  cabin,  and  beckoning  the  poor 
remnant  of  his  crew,  he  ordered  them  to  remove  the  dead 
bodies  and  place  them  in  the  boat,  and  then  stepping  on  board 
himself,  he  ordered  the  seamen  to  pull  out  into  the  bay. 
There,  at  a  distance  of  a  mile  from  the  shore,  in  the  deep  blue 
waters  of  the  JEgean  Sea,  the  dead  were  cast  overboard,  foe 
and  friend  "  in  one  burial  blent,"  and  the  prayers  of  the  Catho- 

18 


410  THE  CABIN  BOY'S  STORY. 

lie  church  repeated  over  their  remains  as  they  sunk  down  deep 
— deep  beneath  the  still  ocean  surface. 

This  needful  rite  ended,  De  Sylva  returned  to  the  shore,  and 
with  a  heavy  heart  and  slow  footsteps  retraced  his  path  to  the 
fisherman's  cabin. 

A  change  had  taken  place  in  his  absence.  An  aged  woman, 
to  whom  Zuleika  had  been  known,  and  to  whom  she  had  been 
kind  since  her  residence  on  the  isle,  had  come  to  the  cottager 
and  witnessing  with  an  aching  heart  the  wild  grief  of  Seymour, 
and  hearkening  to  his  impassioned  request  for  one  word — one 
single  word  from  Zuleika's  lips — ere  death,  fast  approaching, 
had  sealed  them  for  ever,  she  had  retired  to  the  fields,  and 
gathering  some  herbs,  had  made  a  decoction,  with  which  she 
had  wetted  the  lips  of  the  poor,  innocent,  unconscious  sufferer, 
at  the  same  time  endeavoring  to  pour  a  few  drops  down  her 
throat.  The  effect  had. been  electrical.  The  dying  girl  gasped 
for  breath,  her  frame  shook  violently,  and  her  agonized  friends, 
who  had  clustered  around  the  couch,  turned  away  with  sick 
ening  hearts  ;  but  soon  her  muscles  relaxed,  and,  opening  her 
eyes,  she  gazed  wildly  around  her  ;  then  recognizing  Seymour, 
who,  no  longer  able  to  control  his  emotion,  was  weeping  over 
her,  she  smiled,  and  said — 

"  You  here,  dear  George?  Where  am  I  ?  What  has  hap 
pened  ?  Where  is  our  babe,  George  ?" 

Seymour  was  unable  to  reply,  but  he  stooped  his  head  and 
passionately  kissed  her  lips  and  brow. 

"  Ha!"  she  continued,  "  I  recollect  it  all  now.  Thank  God 
that  you,  de'ar  George,  have  not  fallen  a  victim  to  the  fury  of 
those  evil  men.  Why  did  they  attack  us,  George  ?  Oh  !  I 
feel  faint.  George,  I  am  dying.  Where  is  our  babe  ?" 

"  She  is  in  Jane  Miller's  charge,  my  Zuleika,"  said  Seymour, 
as  well  as  his  grief  would  allow  him  to  speak.  "  You  are  too 
weak  to  see  her." 

"Nay,  George,  she  is  dead.  I  have  lain  a  long  time  insen 
sible  to  the  things  of  earth,  and  I  have  seen  our  dear  child, 
a  happy  angel  in  heaven ;  and  she  smiled  on  me,  and  made  her 
little  innocent  gestures  for  me  to  follow  her.  I  shall  do  so 
soon.  I  know  your  motive,  George,  in  trying  to  deceive  me  : 
but  there  is  no  need  of  it — I  know  all.  Place  her  beside  me! 
Let  me  die  with  her  in  my  arms,  pillowed  upon  my  breast  ; 
and,  George,  we  will  watch  over  you,  and  do  you,  too,  soon 
join  us  in  the  glorious  resting-place  where  our  little  Zuleika's 


THE  CABIN  BOV'S  STORY.  411 

spirit  now  is,  and  where  mine  will  soon  rejoin  hers.  Why 
those  tears,  George  ?"  she  continued,  witnessing  the  evidence 
of  his  emotion.  "I  am  happy.  I  could  have  wished  to  have 
lived  a  little  while  longer  on  earth,  to  be,  with  you  always, 
George,  as  we  have  so  often  fondly  pictured  ;  but  it  has  been 
otherwise  decreed,  and  our  home,  so  often  spoken  of,  so  long 
patiently  waited  for,  will  now  be  in  heaven." 

There  was  a  stir  at  the  door  of  the  cabin,  and  an  aged  man, 
nearly  blind,  was  led  in  by  two  of  the  youths  of  the  island. 

"It  is  Father  Otho,"  exclaimed  the  owner  of  the  cabin. 
"Lady,  old  Otho  has  come  to  see  you." 

Zuleika  faintly  smiled  and  endeavored  to  extend  her  hand  to 
the  old  man,  but  she  was  unequal  to  the  effort.  Otho  had  been 
led  to  the  bedside,  and  he  saw  the  ineffectual  movement,  and 
took  the  fair,  delicate  hand  in  his  own  withered  palm. 

"  Lady,"  he  said,  in  his  pure,  musical  Greek,  "this  is  a  sor 
rowful  sight.  It  is  sad  to  witness  the  young  and  beautiful 
stricken  to  death  and  borne  away  to  the  cold  grave,  before  the 
aged  and  palsied,  who  have  long  been  waiting,  expectant  of  the 
visit  of  the  dread  messenger.  Yet,  lady,  yours  is  a  happier  lot 
than  mine,  sorrowful  as  are  the  circumstances  under  which  your 
spirit  is  about  to  wing  its  flight  to  the  realms  of  light.  You 
have  been  spared  the  sorrows  and  distresses  of  a  long  and 
weary  life,  and  ere  you  have  lost  the  freshness  and  innocence 
of  youth,  are  about  to. leave  this  dull  earth  and  partake  of  the 
joys  of  eternal  happiness." 

"  I  know — I  feel  it  is  so — good  Otho,"  replied  Zuleika,  who 
was  momentarily  growing  weaker,  for  her  sand  of  life  almost 
run  out,  had  been  but  temporarily  stayed  by  the  elixir  that  the 
old  Greek  woman  had  prepared.  "  My  child  is  gone  before  me 
to  the  eternal  world  of  which  we  have  so  often  discoursed  in 
your  humble  cabin.  I  long  to  rejoin  her,  but  still  I  would 
linger  willingly  had  heaven  not  decreed  it  otherwise,  for  the 
sake  of  my  husband.  It  is  a  bitter  thought  that  I  must  leave 
him  behind;  but  may  God  grant  that  in  His  good  time  he  may 
be  united  to  me  there.  There  shall  be  our  everlasting  home, 
dear  George — there  the  happy  abode  where  we  shall  be  to 
gether  always,"  she  continued  addressing  Seymour.  "You, 
our  little  Zuleika — poor  innocent  babe — and  I.  We  have  only 
mistaken  the  locality  of  that  blissful  abode  we  have  so  often 
dreamed  of.  We  thought  it  would  be  on  earth,  dear  George. 
One  wiser  than  we  has  decreed  that  it  shall  be  in  heaven. 
George,  you  will  meet  me  in  heaven;  and  you  Jane,"  addressing 


412  THE  CABIN  BOY'S  STORY. 

Jane  Miller,  who,  with  Marie,  was  sitting  at  the  bedside  drowned 
in  tears;  "and  you,  too,  good,  dear  old  Otho,  to  whom  I  owe 
so  much ;  and  all — all  who  are  here  ?" 

"  Let  us  pray,"  solemnly  exclaimed  old  Otho,  rising  from  his 
seat  with  a  strength  and  agility  that  seemed  impossible  for  one 
so  decrepit  with  age  and  infirmity  to  possess.  "  Let  us  pray  to 
God  that  all  who  are  now  here  assembled  may  meet  in  heaven;" 
and  falling  upon  his  knees  by  the  bedside,  he  began  to  pray 
aloud. 

With  a  simultaneous  movement  all  present  knelt  down,  and 
the  aged  Christian  poured  forth  an  extempore  prayer,  with  a 
fervor  and  eloquence  that  touched  the  hearts  of  all  the  as 
sembly. 

He  was  raised  to  his  seat  when  he  had  concluded,  for  his 
strength,  seemingly  so  supernaturally  given  him,  had  failed,  and 
Seymour,  rising  at  the  same  moment,  again  took  his  seat  beside 
his  dying  wife.  A  film  was  gathering  over  her  eyes,  her  sight 
was  failing,  for  she  feebly  endeavored  to  stretch  forth  her  hand 
to  Seymour,  groping  as  one  in  the  dark.  The  grief-stricken, 
almost  heart-broken  husband,  took  the  soft,  fair  hand  in  his 
own,  and  bent  down  over  her. 

"  Closer,  closer,  George,"  she  gasped,  "  place  your  ear  close 
to  my  lips." 

Tremblingly  and  silently  Seymour  obeyed. 

"  Remember,"  said  the  dying  girl,  "  remember,  George!  you 
promised  me  that — you — would  strive — to  become  a  Christian 
— promise  me  again." 

Seymour  was  unable  to  speak — but  he  pressed  her  hand. 
The  pressure  was  feebly  returned.  The  sign  was  understood, 
and  a  smile  illumined  Zuleika's  pale  face,  while  her  lips  moved, 
as  if  she  were  uttering  a  prayer,  or  whispering  her  gratitude 
to  heaven. 

The  arm  that  encircled  the  dead  babe  moved  convulsively,  as 
though  the  dying  mother  were  unwilling  to  part  with  the  mor 
tal  remains  of  her  infant  until  her  spirit  rejoined  that  of  her 
child  in  heaven. 

"  George,"  she  faintly  murmured  in  disconnected  sentences, 
' '  I  must  leave  you,  dear  husband — I  am  called  away.  I  hear 
strains  of  sweet  music,  and  angelic  forms  arrayed  in  bright  gar 
ments  are  beckoning  to  me  from  the  sky.  But  why  is  it  dark, 
George  ?  Why  have  they  closed  the  shutters  ?  They  need 
not  be  afraid  to  see  me  die." 

"It  is  not  dark,  Zuleika,  my  only  love — -the  shutters  have 


413 

not  been  closed/7  replied  Seymour,  but  she  whom  he  had  ad 
dressed  did  not  hear  him.  Her  hand  was  still  locked  in  that 
of  her  husband,  a  convulsive  shudder  agitated  her  frame,  a 
gurgling,  choking  sound  issued  from  her  throat,  for  a  moment 
she  struggled  as  though  she  were  suffering  mortal  agony — and 
then  all  was  still!  With  a  smile  upon  her  lips,  as  radiant,  as 
loving,  as  innocent  as  that  sweet  face  had  ever  worn  in  the 
heyday  of  life  and  health,  the  gentle  Zuleika  died.  Seymour 
threw  himself  franticly  upon  the  pale,  cold  corpse  of  her  he  had 
loved  so  well,  and  gave  full  vent  to  his  grief.  His  bosom 
heaved,  and  his  frame  shook  with  the  intensity  of  his  emotions. 
The  strong  man  wept  in  his  agony ! 


CHAPTER    XXXVIII 

The  last  of  Zuleika — Her  Burial  on  the  Island,  and  the  Departure  of 
Seymour  and  Jane  Miller  for  Odessa,  on  board  the  Petrel. 

"  My  hair  is  gray  ;  but  not  with  years." 

Prisotier  of  CMtton. 

THROUGHOUT  that  sorrowful  day  Seymour  sat  by  the  side  of 
the  corpse  of  his  adored  Zuleika,  alone,  for  he  refused  to  be 
comforted.  The  wound  in  his  arm,  though  severe,  was  not  dan 
gerous,  and  it  had  been  carefully  dressed  by  some  of  the  Greek 
women  of  the  island,  who  generally  practised  what  little  sur 
gery  and  medical  duty  was  required,  and  usually  with  success  ; 
but  he  heeded  not  the  pain  of  the  wound ;  even  had  it  been  ten 
times  more  painful,  he  would  not  have  felt  it.  Jane  Miller  and 
Marie  Wilson,  and  Captain  De  Sylva,  each  and  all  strove  to 
administer  comfort  to  him;  but  in  vain.  He  at  first  listened 
with  apparent  patience ;  but  with  his  thoughts  in  reality  dwell 
ing  upon  other  topics,  until  at  length  he  sternly,  almost  savage 
ly,  desired  them  to  leave  the  apartment.  They  complied,  and 
he  locked  door  and  closed  the  shutters,  and  then  turning  him 
self  upon  the  bed  beside  the  dead  bodies  of  his  wife  and  child, 
he  thus  remained  until  night  and  through  the  night  until  the 
morning  again  broke,  and  his  .friends  having  grown  alarmed  at 
the  silence  that  prevailed  in  that  dark,  closed,  desolate  apart 
ment,  forced  open  the  door. 

What  thoughts  had  passed  through  the  mind  of  the  mourner 
during  that  long  period  of  intense  grief,  no  one  knew,  no  one 


414  THE  CABIN  BOY'S  STORY. 

can  ever  know.  De  Sylva  entered  and  found  him  kneeling  by 
the  side  of  the  bed,  the  fair  hand  of  his  wife,  now  rigid  and 
cold  in  death,  clasped  in  his  own  so  tightly  that  it  was  with 
difficulty  De  Sylva  could  unloose  it.  Seymour  at  first  seemed 
unconscious  of  his  presence,  and  it  was  only  after  repeated  en 
deavors  to  recall  him  to  himself,  that  the  grief-stricken  husband 
allowed  himself  to  be  led  from  the  room.  His  friends  were  ter 
ror-stricken  at  the  change  which  those  twenty-four  hours  of 
woe  had  made  in  his  appearance.  His  sable  hair  was  strewn 
with  threads  of  grey;  his  face  was  haggard;  his  athletic  form 
seemed  to  have  lost  all  its  vigor  and  elasticity,  and  his  clear, 
olive,  richly  sunburnt  complexion  had  become  sallow.  Twenty 
years  seemed  during  the  course  of  that  one  day  and  night  to 
have  been  added  to  his  life.  On  the  day  before  he  was  the 
beau  ideal  of  a  handsome  man,  in  the  full  prime  and  vigor  of 
manhood;  now  he  presented  the  appearance  of  a  man  far  -ad 
vanced  into  middle  life,  with  a  shattered  constitution  and  a  de 
bilitated  frame. 

Sunken  into  despondency,  he  barely  replied  to  the  few  neces 
sary  questions  that  were  addressed  to  him,  and  shrunk  alike 
from  observation  and  sympathy.  But  he  did  not  attempt  to 
enter  the  chamber  of  death  again — and  when.  De  Sylva,  and 
Jane  Miller — who  had  been  under  the  necessity  of  explaining 
to  the  young  Portuguese  the  apparent  mystery  of  her  presence, 
with  as  much  delicacy  as  possible — hinted  the  necessity  of 
making  preparations  for  the  funeral,  he  made  no  objections.  He 
left  all  to  them,  and  seemed  only  desirous  to  be  left  alone  to 
the  indulgence  of  his  silent  and  painful  reveries. 

The  negro  nurse,  assisted  by  Jane  Miller,  proceeded  to  ar 
range  the  corpses  of  the  young  mother  and  her  child  for  inter 
ment.  Poor  Julia  had  been  forgotten  amidst  the  terrific  events 
of  the  late  deadly  struggle,  but  she  had  heard  the  approach  of 
the  pirates,  before  Zuleika's  ear  had  caught  the  sound  of  their 
footsteps.  She  had  risen  from  her  bed  and  gone  out  to  recon 
noitre,  and  being  afraid  to  enter  the  cottage  again  after  it  was 
surrounded  by  the  armed  band  ;  she  had  concealed  herself 
amongst  the  shrubbery  and  there  had  been  a  witness  of  the 
strife. 

But  the  negress  had  been  fondly  attached  to  her  mistress 
and  the  infant,  and  with  the  peculiar  characteristic  of  her  race, 
she  had,  since  Zuleika  and  her  child's  deaths,  given  way  to  bois- 
trous,  uncontrollable  grief. 

With  sobs  and  lamentations,  loud  and  long,  she  assisted  Jane 


THE    CABIN    BOY'S    STORY.  415 

in  the  mournful  task.  The  carpenter  of  the  Petrel  was  in 
structed  to  make  the  coffin,  and  by  nightfall  of  that  day,  every 
thing  was  arranged  for  the  funeral.  Seymour  was  informed 
of  this,  and  then,  for  the  first  time  since  he  had  been  led  from 
the  room  in  the  morning,  he  expressed  his  desire  once  again  to 
look  upon  the  remains  of  his  wife  and  child,  before  they  were 
committed  to  the  grave. 

He  was  led  into  the  room  by  De  Sylva,  who  requested  Jane 
Miller  to  be  at  hand,  as  he  expected  another  frantic  display  of 
grief. 

But  he  was  agreeably  disappointed. 

Seymour  approached  the  coffin,  stooped  down  and  kissed  the 
cold  cheek  of  the  infant  as  it  lay  upon  its  mother's  bosom,  and 
then  imprinting  another  long,  lingering  kiss  upon  the  pale  lips 
of  Zuleika,  he  took  her  hand  in  his,  and  whispered,  as  though 
she  could  hear  him  : 
"  /  will  remember  /" 

Then  turning  to  De  Sylva,  he  said,  calmly. 
"  Lead  me  from  the  room — I  feel  weak  and  faint." 
De  Sylva  led  him  from  the  apartment. 
"  All  is  ready  for  the  funeral,"  said  he,  "  are  you  willing  that 
it  should  take  place  to-night  ?" 
"  Yes,  to-night,"  replied  Seymour. 

"  Several  of  the  matrons  and  maidens  of  the  island  desire 
once  more  to  look  upon  the  remains  of  her  they  have  learned 
to  love  so  well;  and  old  Otho  is  here,  he  would  like  to  see  '  his 
lady,'  as  he  calls  her,  again — are  you  willing  they  should  be 
admitted  ?" 

"  Yes/'  replied  Seymour,  in  the  same  cold,  apathetic  tone  of 
voice. 

The  Greek  women  and  old  Otho  were  admitted.  The  girls 
had  brought  handfulls  of  sweet  wild  flowers  with  which  they 
strewed  the  bier,  and  almost  covered  the  bodies  it  contained, 
and  then  one  by  one  they  kissed  Zuloika's  brow,  which  they 
bathed  in  tears,  unable  to  control  the  warm  impulses  of  their 
ardent  natures.  Old  Otho  was  the  last  who  approached  the 
corpse  ;  he  took  Zuleika's  hand  in  his  own,  and  then,  raising 
his  trembling  right  hand  to  heaven,  he  muttered  almost  inaudl- 
bly,  some  Greek  words,  then  letting  his  arm  fall,  laid  his  hand 
upon  his  heart,  exclaiming — 
"  All  is  peace  !" 

He  was  led  by  De  Sylva  from  the  room,  and  the  bearers  ar 
rived  to  carry  the  coffin  to  the  grave.     The  carpenter  screwed 


416  THE  CABIN  BOY'S  STORY. 

down  the  lid,  and  assisted  by  De  Sylva,  bore  it  to  the  outside 
of  the  cottage.  The  bearers  who  had'  volunteered,  were  six 
young  Greek  girls,  who  placed  their  'kerchiefs  beneath  the  bier, 
and  holding  either  end,  walked  three  on  each  side.  There  Was 
no  pall,  nor  any  inscription  upon  the  coffin;  a  bunch  of  white 
flowers  alone  bedecked  the  bier  ;  a  red  poppy  was  intertwined 
with  the  bouquet,  to  signify  that  the  deceased  had  died  a  vio 
lent  death  ;  but  Jane  Miller  desired  its  removal.  She  wished 
to  associate  no  ideas  of  violence  with  the  last  of  one  so  inno 
cent  and  beautiful  as  Zuleika,  and  her  desire  was  readily  com 
plied  with.  Indeed,  it  was  she  who  took  upon  herself  with  a 
calmness  and  assiduity  that  attracted  the  admiration  of  all,  the 
entire  arrangement  of  the  melancholy  cortege.  There  was  no 
priest  on  the  island,  and  old  Otho — now  nearly  blind,  and  so 
decrcpid  that  he  was  obliged  to  be  supported  by  two  stout 
Greek  youths,  offered  to  recite  the  prayers  of  the  Greek  church 
(from  memory)  over  the  grave  ;  Seymour  followed  immediately 
behind  the  bier,  supported  by  De  Sylva,  then  followed  Jane 
and  Marie,  then  the  negress  Julia>  and  behind  them  a  proces 
sion  of  Greek  men,  women,  and  youths  of  both  sexes,  compris 
ing  almost  all  the  inhabitants  of  the  island. 

The  Greek  girls  chanted  a  mournful  dirge  as  the  cortege 
wended  slowly  along  the  margin  of  the  beach,  to  the  spot  where 
the  wild  surf  broke  unceasingly  against  the  rock-bound  coast, 
making  that  melancholy  music  which  Zuleika  had  so  much  de 
lighted  to  listen  to. 

There,  far  above  high-water  mark,  in  a  cypress  grove,  be 
neath  the  overhanging  cliffs,  whence,  in  this  spot,  probably  in 
consequence  of  some  convulsion  of  nature  which  had  occurred 
centuries  ago,  the  waters  had  receded,  leaving  a  long,  deep 
beach,  fringed  close  beneath  the  cliffs  with  sombre  evergreens, 
the  grave  had  been  prepared  at  Jane  Miller's  desire,  in  conse 
quence  of  Zuleika  having  one  day  observed  that  if  she  were  to 
die  upon  the  island,  it  was  near  this  spot  she  would  wish  to  be 
buried. 

The  coffin  was  lowered  into  the  lonely  grave,  and  the  sandy 
soil  was  thrown  upon  it,  until  it  was  filled  up — while  the  voice 
of  old  Otho,  reciting  the  funeral  prayers  of  his  church,  was 
heard  above  the  deep  voice  of  the  sea  and  the  hollow  sound  of 
the  falling  clods  of  earth. 

The  mournful  ceremony  was  over,  and  slowly,  in  little  sad 
dened  groups,  the  islanders  departed  to  their  homes.  But  Sey 
mour  now  threw  himself  upon  the  grave,  and  again  gave  vent 


THE  CABIN  BOY'S  STORY.  417 

to  the  violence  of  his  grief,  so  long  suppressed.  He  called 
wildly  upon  Zuleika  to  awaken  from  her  sleep — to  come  forth 
from  the  grave  to  speak  to  him  ;  to  visit  him  again  in  form  or 
in  spirit — not  to  forsake  him  for  ever.  Jane  Miller  and  Marie 
became  alarmed  at  the  violence  of  his  emotion,  and  De  Sylva 
sat  down  beside  him,  and  strove,  for  a  long  time  in  vain,  to 
comfort  him.  At  length  he  succeeded.  The  strange  apathy 
which  had  followed  the  first  violent  outburst  of  grief,  again  took 
possession  of  him,  and  he  allowed  De  Sylva  and  Jane  to  lead 
him  towards  the  cottage  of  the  poor  fisherman  ;  and  the  grave 
of  Zuleika  was  left  to  the  wild,  savage  solitude  of  nature. 
The  hollow  winds  whistled  over  it  ; — above  it  the  sea-bird 
whirled  its  flight  and  screamed  its  discordant  notes  ;  and  the 
moaning  surf,  beating  upon  the  rocks  near  by,  sung  a  perpetual 
requiem. 

Another  and  another  day  dawned  upon  Zuleika's  Isle,  no 
longer  graced  by  the  gentle  being  whose  name  it  bore,  but 
.bearing  within  its  bosom  her  mortal  remains,  there  to  rest  in 
peace  till  the  day  of  resurrection.  Seymour  had  fallen  into  a 
state  of  stupor,  which  alarmed  his  friends.  At  Jane  Miller's 
urgent  request,  seconded  by  Marie,  and  by  the  promptings  of 
his  own  generous  nature,  De  Sylva  delayed  the  departure  of 
the  Petrel  for  several  days  after  his  new  spars  had  been  made 
and  his  vessel  repaired,  although  he  was  anxious  to  proceed  on 
his  voyage.  Jane  was  fearful,  and  not  without  reason,  that 
when  the  remnant  of  the  pirate  crew  reached  the  body  of  the 
fleet,  after  their  ill-starred  expedition,  they  would  seek  revenge, 
and  again  visit  the  island  in  overpowering  numbers,  and  she 
was  anxious  to  quit  it  as  soon  as  possible — anxious  again  to 
revisit  her  home,  and  her  mother  and  brother — growing  more 
and  more  anxious  every  day.  But  daily  did  Seymour  visit  the 
grave  of  his  beloved  wife,  and  spend  hour  after  hour  vainly 
calling  upon  her  to  come  back  to  him — entreating  her  not  to 
leave  him  to  anguish  and  despair.  His  friends  grew  alarmed 
for  his  reason  ;  and  De  Sylva  at  last  thought  of  carrying  him 
away  by  force. 

One  evening,  he,  for  the  first  time  since  Zuleika's  death,  con 
trived  to  interest  him  in  conversation.  It  was  his  last  hope. 
He  had  resolved,  on  the  morrow,  to  leave  the  island,  and  to 
take  with  him  to  Odessa,  Seymour,  Jane  and  the  negress, 
trusting  to  circumstances  with  regard  to  their  future  move 
ments  ;  but  upon  this  evening  Seymour  appeared  willing  to  con- 

18* 


418  THE  CABIN  BOYS  STORY. 

verse,  and  De  Sylva  adroitly  turned  the  subject  of  conversation 
to  the  future  prospects  of  Jane  Miller. 

"  Jane  is  anxious  to  reach  her  home  again,  poor  girl  1"  said 
he  ;  "  and  you,  Captain  Seymour,  it  were  well  if  you  sought 
some  other  scene,  where  you  might  in  time  learn  to  resign 
yourself  to  your  loss." 

"  It  is  irreparable,"  replied  Seymour. 

"  So  it  is.  Still,  it  is  vain  to  repine  for  that  which  cannot 
be  helped.  I  am  going  to  sail  for  Odessa  to-morrow  morning  ; 
let  us  all  go  together.  When  you  arrive  there  we  can  consult 
as  to  what  course  is  best  to  pursue.  You  can  go  back  with 
me  to  my  own  country,  or  can  probably  procure  a  passage  for 
yourself  and  Jane  to  America." 

"  I  shall  not  return  to  America,"  interrupted  Seymour. 

"  Then  you  can  go  to  England  or  France,  or  where  you  will. 
But  recollect  your  promise  to  Jane  Miller,  that  you  would  see 
that  she  returned  home  to  her  mother." 

"  I  will  go  with  you,"  said  Seymour,  suddenly  arousing  him 
self,  as  it  were,  from  his  torpidity — as  though  some  new  idea 
had  struck  him.  "  I  will  go  with  you  ;  to-morrow,  do  you  say 
you  sail  ?  Well,  be  it  so  ;  the  sooner  the  better.  Let  it  be 
to-morrow.  But  is  Jane  Miller  prepared  ?" 

"  She  is  ready  at  any  moment.  I  have  requested  Marie  to 
speak  with  her.  She  has  entered  into  all  our  arrangements. 

Once  possessed  with  the  new  idea  that  seemed  suddenly 
to  have  occupied  his  mind,  Seymour  displayed  much  of  his 
wonted  alacrity.  He  made  all  ready  for  his  departure ;  saw 
old'Otho,  and  arranged  for  his  future  support,  and  engaged  a 
Greek  woman  to  attend  upon  him — >and  then  took  an  affection 
ate  farewell  of  the  old  man,  whose  sand  of  life  was  fast  running 
out. 

"  Otho — good  old  man,"  said  he — "  you  will  in  all  probabil 
ity  meet  the  spirit  of  my  sainted  Zuleika  in  heaven  ere  long, 
while  I  must  still  wander  a  desolate  outcast  upon  earth.  But 
tell  her,  if  beatified  spirits  are  permitted  to  hold  converse  to 
gether,  and  to  speak  of  things  of  earth  ;  tell  her  that  I  will 
remember  her  parting  request — my  last  silent  promise.  Fare 
well — pray  for  me,  that  some  day  I  may  meet  you  in  that  hap 
pier  abode." 

De  Sylva,  Jane,  Marie  and  Seymour,  since  the  destruction 
of  the  cottage,  had  made  the  humble  cabin  of  the  fisherman 
their  residence  ;  him,  Seymour  handsomely  remunerated  ;  he 


THE    CABIN    BOY  S    STORY. 


419 


also  provided  for  the  widow  and  children  of  the  fisherman 
whose  life  had  been  lost  in  the  defence  of  the  cottage,  and  made 
presents  of  trifling  worth— yet  still  valuable  to  the  poor,  simple 
Greeks,  to  all  the  inhabitants  of  the  island— presents  that 
would  be  of  benefit  to  them,  and  at  the  same  time  serve  as 
souvenirs  of  her  whose  memory  he  hoped  would  ever  be  cher 
ished  by  them. 

The  day  was  far  advanced  before  all  these  arrangements  were 
completed.  In  the  evening  Seymour  seemed  livelier  than  he 
had  been  since  Zuleika's  death.  *  The  prospect  of  change  ap 
peared  to  have  planted  fresh  hope  in  his  heart,  and  after  an 
evening  of  pleasant,  though  subdued  conversation,  he  and  his 
friends  retired  to  rest.  It  was  the  last  time  they  would  sleep 
in  a  place  embittered  to  them  by  such  painful  recollections. 

On  the  morrow  De  Sylva  rose  early,  and  going  on  board  his 
brig,  ordered  the  mate  to  get  every  thing  in  readiness  for  sailing. 
He  then  returned  on  shore  for  the  purpose  of  taking  his  pas 
sengers  on  board.  Jane  Miller  and  Marie  and  the  negress 
were  ready ;  but  Seymour  had  not  made  his  appearance.  Jane 
had  knocked  at  the  door  of  his  room,  but  no  answer  had  been 
returned  and  the  women  were  beginning  to  feel  alarmed. 

When,De  Sylva  was  informed  of  this,  he  entered  the  sleeping 
chamber.  It  was  empty— and  more  than  that,  Seymour's  bed 
had  not  been  slept  in  on  the  previous  night. 

At  first  a  suspicion  that  the  unhappy  man  had  committed 
suicide  flashed  upon  the  mind  of  De  Sylva— and  then  the  idea 
struck  him  that  he  might,  perhaps,  be  found  at  the  grave  of 
his  wife.  He  hastened  thither,  taking  Jane  Miller,  to  whom  he 
had  imparted  his  suspicions,  with  him. 

When  they  reached  the  spot,  their  minds  were  much  relieved 
on  witnessing  the  object  of  their  search  seated  on  the  little 
mound,  which,  planted  with  grass  seed,  had  been  raised  over 
the  grave  of  the  mother  and  child.  A  white  rose  bush  which 
Jane  recognized  as  having  once  been  a  favorite  plant  of  Zulei 
ka's,  and  from  which  she  had  been  wont  to  pluck  the  flowers  to 
adorn  her  hair,  had  been  newly  planted  on  the  grave,  and.Sey- 
mour  was  sitting  with  his  head  resting  upon  his  hand,  so  earn 
estly  contemplating  the  rose  bush,  that  he  did  not  observe  the 
approach  of  his  visitors  until  they  were  close  upon  him.^ 

"  All  is  ready  for  sea,  on  board  the  Petrel,  Captain  bey- 
mour,"  said  De  Sylva.  "  We  have  been  looking  for  you,  and 
Jane,  here,  got  frightened  on  finding  that  you  had  not  slept  in 
your  bed  last  night. 


420  THE    CABIN    BOY'S    STORY. 

"  Here,  on  this  grave,  has  my  last  night  in  Zuleika's  Isle 
been  passed,"  replied  Seymour.  "I  went  to  the  garden  and 
dug  up  this  rose  bush,  after  we  parted  last  night,  and  brought 
it  here  and  planted  it.  It  was  a  favorite  plant  of  Zuleika's, 
and  it  is  emblematical  of  her  own  innocence.  I  had  thought 
to  have  spent  the  last  night  in  vigils  over  her  tomb;  but  I  have 
been  sleeping  for  hours — and  she  and  our  babe  have  appeared  to 
me  in  my  dreams.  They  smiled  sweetly,  and  Zuleika  said  she 
was  happy — and  bade  me  remember  ray  promise  to  her.  I 
awoke  and  registered  a  vow,  before  heaven,  that  I  would  not 
forget  it;  nor  will  I.  I  had  forgotten  that  the  hour  of  embark 
ation  drew  near,  or  I  would  not  have  kept  you  waiting.  I 
will  pluck  one  white  rose  from  the  tree  and  wear  it  next  my 
heart,  for  Zuleika's  sake  ;  and  then  I  will  bid  farewell  for  ever 
to  the  spot,  and  the  precious  dust  it  contains,  and  be  with 
you." 

He  plucked  the  flower  as  h'e  spoke,  and  casting  a  lingering 
look  upon  the  grave,  rose  from  the  sod  and  accompanied  De 
Sylva  and  Jane  to  the  cabin  of  the  fisherman.  They  found 
Marie  and  the  negress  awaiting  them,  and  together  they  pro 
ceeded  to  the  boat  that  was  to  carry  them  on  board  the  Petrel. 

In  half  an  hour's  space  the  Petrel  was  under  weigh-,  and  with 
a  fine  fresh  breeze  was  running  along  the  shore  of  the  island, 
which  was  lined  with  the  honest,  simple  inhabitants,  who 
cheered  the  wanderers  on  their  way,  and  bestowed  blessings 
innumerable  upon  Seymour,  in  return  for  the  few  kind  offices 
he  had  done  them  since  he  had  chosen  (unluckily)  this  island 
for  his  young  wife's  abode. 

Jane  and  Seymour  stood  upon  the  raised  poop  of  the  brig, 
until  the  last  faint  shadow  of  the  land  was  no  longer  visible, 
and  then  the  former  retired  to  the  cabin  occupied  by  Marie  ; 
but  Seymour  sat  on  the  taffrail,  with  his  eyes  turned  in  the  di 
rection  of  the  land  long  after  it  had  sunk  below  the  horizon. 
The  seamen  passed  to  and  fro  busily  engaged  in  their  duties, 
but  he  heeded  them  not;  he  heard  not  the  orders  given  by  the 
captain  and  the  mate,  as  alternately  they  relieved  each  other 
in  the  occupation  of  the  quarter  deck.  The  day  passed  away, 
and  already  the  first  watch  of  the  evening  had  commenced,  and 
his  reveries  had  not  been  disturbed,  for  De  Sylva  knew  well 
that  it  was  better  that  his  passenger  should  be  left  uninter 
ruptedly  in  communication  with  his  own  thoughts;  but  when 
the  hour  of  supper  arrived,  he  touched  him  gently  on  the 
shoulder. 


THE  CABIN  BOY'S  STORY.  421 

"  Come,  Captain  Seymour,"  said  he,  "  supper  awaits  us  in 
the  cabin;  come  down  and  join  Jane  and  Marie  and  me  there. 
We  have  left  you  undisturbed  to  your  reveries  all  day  ;  but 
you  must  be  hungry  and  weary  now,  so  come  below." 

"The  island  has  disappeared  beneath  the  horizon?"  said 
Seymour,  in  an  absent  manner,  and  yet  half  interrogatively. 

"  Hours  ago,"  replied  De  Sylva. 

"  And  yet,  until  you  touched  me  just  now,  I  fancied  I  saw 
it  still.  I  seemed  to  wake  to  your  touch,  and  the  shadow  dis 
appeared." 

"  You  saw  it  merely  in  your  imagination,"  answered  De 
Sylva.  "  Come,  come  away  below.  Marie  and  Jane  are 
growing  impatient.  The  former  has  called  us  half  a  dozen 
times;  come,  recollect  you  have  had  no  dinner." 

Seymour  suffered  himself  to  be  led  below  to  the  cabin,  where, 
after  he  had  partaken  of  the  food  that  had  been  prepared,  he 
laid  down  upon  the  sofa  locker,  and  fell  asleep,  for  his  mind 
and  body  were  alike  worn  and  wearied. 

The  Petrel  met  with  no  adventure  of  moment  during  the  re 
mainder  of  her  passage  through  the  Dardanelles  and  the  still 
narrower  channel  of  the  Bosphorus,  and  within  a  week  after 
passing  the  latter,  she  entered  the  port  of  Odessa.  A  caravan 
was  on  the  point  of  starting  overland  to  Moscow,  at  the  time 
of  their  arrival,  and  Seymour  hearing  this,  resolved  to  go  with 
it.  He  had  no  passport,  but  he  had  money,  and  that  will  buy 
or  break  passports,  or  do  anything  else  in  Russia  ;  powerful, 
as  it  everywhere  is,  there  it  is  all-powerful.  So  soon  as  it  was 
ascertained  that  he  had  wealth,  his  purposes  were  no  longer 
questioned  ;  he  feed  the  governor,  and  the  deputy  governor, 
and  half  a  dozen  subordinates  military  and  civic,  and  a  pass 
port  was  forged  for  him,  and  he  was  desired  to  hold  himself  in 
readiness  to  start  with  the  caravan  on  the  following  morning. 
He  stated  the  object  he  had  in  view  in  undertaking  this  jour 
ney  to  no  one,  further  than  telling  Jane  Miller  and  De  Sylva 
that  he  hoped  the  change  of  scene  and  the  new  mode  of  travel 
would  serve  to  divert  his  mind  from  brooding  over  his  sad  loss; 
and  placing  sufficient  funds  in  the  hands  of  Jane  to  enable  her 
to  meet  abundantly  all  the  expenses  she  might  find  it  necessary 
to  incur  in  order  to  reach  home  ;  and  thanking  De  Sylva  for 
his  kindness,  in  few  words,  but  with  a  warm  pressure  of  the 
hand,  and  bidding  farewell  to  Mnrie,  he  left  them,  and  they 
saw  him  no  more,  though  he*  was  subsequently  heard  of  by 
them. 


422  THE  CABIN  BOY'S  STORY. 

It  was  arranged  that  Jane  should  stay  with  Marie,  who,  like 
herself,  was  a  fugitive  from  home,  and  return  with  De  Sylva 
to  Oporto,  from  which  port  he  promised  to  procure  her  a  pas 
sage  to  New  York ;  and  here  for  the  present  shall  we  leave 
them,  and  return  to  the  history  of  those  other  personages  who 
have  figured  in  our  narrative,  whose  existence  the  reader  will 
begin  to  think  we  have  forgotten. 


CHAPTER  XXXIX. 

Which  treats  of  various  Characters — and  Commences  to  wind  up  the 

Story. 

SOME  months  after  the  occurrence  of  the  events  described  in 
the  preceding  chapter,  the  widow  Miller  was  seated  with  her 
son  at  breakfast  in  the  parlor  of  the  little  cottage  in  New  Jer 
sey.  Tom  was  reading  the  newspaper  aloud  to  his  mother,  oc 
casionally  stopping  to  sip  his  coffee,  for  he  had  already  finished 
the  substantial  portion  of  his  breakfast,  when  the  knock  of  the 
postman  was  heard  at  the  door,  and  shortly  afterwards  the 
servant  maid  entered  the  parlor  with  a  letter  addressed  to  Mr. 
Thomas  Miller.  Tom  received  the  letter  from  the  hands  of  the 
servant,  and  breaking  open  the  seal  commenced  to  peruse  it. 
Something  peculiar  in  the  handwriting  or  something  remarka 
ble  in  the  contents  seemed  to  startle  him,  for  he  sprang  up 
from  his  chair,  and  the  blood  rushed  from  his  cheeks,  leaving 
his  face  pale  and  colorless  ;  while,  although  not  subject  to  ner 
vousness,  his  hands  trembled  so  much  that  he  could  scarcely 
read  the  letter. 

"  What  is  the  matter  my  dear  ?"  asked  the  widow.  "  Have 
you  any  bad  news  in  that  letter  ?" 

"  No— mother— oh,  no"— stammered  the  youth. 

"  Then  you  must  be  unwell,  for  you  tremble  as  if  you  had 
an  ague  fit,  and  your  face  is  as  pale  as  that  of  a  corpse." 

"  Yes — I  mean — no,  mother,  I  am  quite  well — but — there  is 
no  bad  news  in  the  letter.  On  the  contrary,  good  news.  Still, 
it  has  taken  me  unawares.  I  will  retire  to  my  own  room  and 
finish  its  perusal,  and  then  I  will  explain." 

"  You  are  ordered  away  to  sea  again,"  said  the  widow,  in  a 
tone  of  alarm.  "  Surely,  the}vmight  give  you  longer  leave  of 
absence,  after  having  been  so  lonp;  awav  from  me." 


423 

"  No,  mother.  This  letter  has  no  reference  to  the  Service," 
said  the  youth  ;  "  but — I  cannot  explain  now.  You  shall 
know  all  ;  you  shall  read  it  yourself,  by  and  by." 

Thus  speaking,  he  left  the  parlor  and  proceeded  to  his  bed 
room,  where  he  finished  the  perusal  of  the  letter  which  had  so 
much  surprised  and  startled  him. 

It  was  from  his  sister  Jane.  She  had  reached  Oporto  in 
safety  in  the  Petrel,  and  thence  had  taken  her  passage  to  New 
York,  at  which  place  she  had  arrived  but  a  few  hours  previous 

to  writing  the  letter,  which  was  dated  from  the Hotel 

in  Broadway.  The  letter  was  brief  ;  but  it  said  enough  to  ac 
count  for  much  of  the  mystery  which  Tom  had  hitherto  been 
unable  to  penetrate.  It  stated  that  she  had  made  inquiry  im 
mediately  upon  her  arrival  with  regard  to  her  mother's  present 
place  of  residence,  and  had  learned  that  she  still  lived  near 
Jersey  City.  She  had  also  learned  that  her  brother  was  at 
home,  and  she  had  thought  it  advisable  that  he  should  call 
upon  her  at  the  hotel  before  she  went  home,  in  order  that  he 
might  be  able  to  break  the  news  of  her  arrival  to  her  mother. 
She  made  brief  allusion  to  the  visit  of  the  young  midshipman 
to  Annabon,  and  explained  the  nature  of  the  letter  which  in  a 
state  of  nervous  excitement  she  had  sent  him  by  the  hand  of 
Miss  Herbert. 

It  was  little  wonder  the  young  man  was  agitated,  and  that 
his  hand  trembled  and  his  pulse  beat  rapidly,  and  his  cheeks 
alternately  flushed  and  turned  pale  ;  but,  having  read  the  let 
ter,  he  resolved  to  visit  the  hotel  and  see  his  long-lost  sister 
before  he  explained  the  nature  of  the  news  he  had  received  to 
his  mother. 

Hastily  preparing  himself  for  the  walk,  he  re-entered  the  par 
lor  where  the  widow  was  still  sitting,  anxiously  awaiting  his 
return,  and  pondering  over  the  probable  nature  of  the  news 
which  had  so  agitated  her  son. 

"  Mother,"  said  he,  "  I  must  go  over  to  New  York,  immedi 
ately.  I  shall-  not  be  long  absent,  and  when  I  return,  I  will 
show  you  the  letter  I  have  received." 

"Why  not  now,  Tom?"  said  Mrs.  Miller,  "surely  there  is 
some  bad  news.  My  boy,  you  are  ordered  to  sea  again  ?" 

"  I  do  not  know  that  I  ought  to  consider  that  bad  news," 
said  Tom,  smilingly — "  though  I  should  be  sorry  to  leave  you 
soon,  as  I  expect  to  be  at  home  at  least  six  months  ;  but,  set 
your  mind  at  ease  on  that  score.  The  letter,  as  I  have  already 
said,  does  not  relate  to  me  personally  at  all  ;  and  so  far  from 


424  THE  CABIN  BOY'S  STORY. 

being  the  bearer  of  bad  news,  the  intelligence  it  contains,  will, 
if  I  mistake  not,  gladden  your  heart." 

"  Then,  why  not  satisfy  me  now,  Tom  ?"  reiterated  the 
widow. 

"  I  wish  to  be  sure  that  the  good  news  is  true  first, 
mother." 

"  Is  it  anything  about  Jane  ?"  asked  the  widow,  her  voice 
trembling  as  she  spoke,  and  her  countenance  assuming  an  ex 
pression  of  intense  anxiety. 

"  Dear  mother,  wait  until  I  return,  and  then  you  shall  know 
all,"  replied  Tom  ;  "  Good  by,  I  shall  be  back  before  dinner 
time  :"  and,  without  giving  the  anxious  widow  time  to  put  any 
more  questions,  he  left  the  parlor,  and  the  next  minute  was 
hurrying  towards  the  ferry. 

Mrs.  Miller  was  fain  to  content  herself  with  his  promise  to 
return  speedily,  and  communicate  to  her  the  gratifying  intelli 
gence  he  alluded  to. 

"What  can  it  be  ?"  said  she  to  herself,  as,  after  he  had  gone, 
she  sat  down  on  the  sofa,  and  fell  into  a  brown  study  ;  "  I 
should  be  certain  it  was  an  appointment  to  some  ship,  if  Tom 
had  not  told  me  positively  it  was  not,  and  I  know  he  would  not 
tell  me  a  falsehood.  Can  he  have  heard  anything  with  regard 
to  Jane  ?  No  :  poor,  dear  girl,"  and  the  widow  shook  her 
head,  and  a  tear  rolled  down  her  cheek,  as  she  thought  of  her 
lost  daughter.  "  No  :  I  shall  never  hear  anything  of  poor 
Jane,  again.  I  wonder  now,"  thought  the  widow,  in  her  simpli 
city  and  her  ignorance  with  regard  to  nautical  matters,  and  the 
slow  progress  of  promotion  in  Uncle  Sam's  national  marine — 
"  I  wonder,  now,  whether  Tom  hasn't  done  something  or  other 
very  gallant  and  brave,  while  he  was  away  at  sea,  which  he 
has  been  too  modest  and  bashful  to  tell  me  of  ?"  (Oh  !  Widow 
Miller,  Widow  Miller — your  son,  Tom,  too  modest  and  bash 
ful!  Those  are  failings  or  virtues,  call  them  which  you  please, 
that  your  darling  son  is  not  troubled  with.)  "  I  shouldn't  won 
der,  now,  if  he  has,"  repeated  the  widow,  "  and  they're  going 
to  make  a  lieutenant  of  him,  right  away.  He'll  buy  himself  a 
pair  of  epaulettes,  if  it  is  so,  before  he  returns  home,  and  pre 
sent  himself  to  me  in  his  new  finery  ;  that's  it,  depend  upon  it," 
and  the  widow  roused  herself  from  her  brown  study,  confident 
in  her  own  mind  that  she  had  shrewdly  fathomed  the  mystery 
of  her  son's  behavior,  and  set  herself  to  work  at  the  daily 
routine  of  her  domestic  duties. 

Meanwhile  Tom  reached   New  York,  and  hastened  to  the 


THE  CABIN  BOY'S  STORY.  425 

Hotel.  It  was  a  moment  of  intense  feeling  to  him, 

that  moment,  when,  led  by  the  waiter,  he  tapped  at  the  door 
of  the  room  occupied  by  his  sister.  A  voice — a  voice  he  readi 
ly  recognized,  albeit  it  sounded  somewhat  tremulous  and  husky, 
bade  him  enter.  He  turned  the  handle  of  the  door  ;  it  swung 
open.  He  stood  in  the  room — in  the  presence  of  his  long-lost 
sister. 

"  Tom,  dear  Tom!"  she  exclaimed,  and  rushed  into  his  arms, 
hanging  about  his  neck,  as  though  she  were  fearful  she  should 
lose  him  again. 

"  Dear,  dear  Jane!"  answered  Torn,  from  the  innermost  depths 
of  his  heart.  It  was  all  he  could  say  ;  and  his  manhood  for 
sook  him,  and  he  sobbed  aloud.  For  some  moments  the  brother 
and  sister  clung  speechless  in  each  other's  embrace,  mingling 
each  other's  tears.  Then  came  the  explanation.  Jane  con 
fessed  how  she  had  become  foolishly  infatuated  with  Seymour, 
at  the  same  time  exonerating  him  from  all  blame  ;  for  though 
he  had  shown  a  marked  partiality  for  her  society,  he  had  not 
spoken  of  love.  The  interview  at  Annabon  was  talked  over, 
and  an  hour  had  elapsed  before  the  re-united  brother  and  sister 
thought  of  the  flight  of  time.  Then  Jane  besought  her  brother 
to  carry  her  to  her  mother. 

"  Will  she  forgive  me,  Tom  ?"  she  asked.  "  Will  she  not  be 
angry  with  me  for  leaving  her  in  the  unnatural  manner  I  did  ?" 

"  She  will,"  replied  Tom.  "  Dear  Jane  you  know  not  how 
deeply  she  has  mourned  over  your  supposed  death.  How  she 
has  longed  for  some  token  that  she  might  always  wear  about 
her  to  remind  her  of  you.  For  a  long  time  she  wore  a  ring, 
supposed  to  have  been  that  given  to  you  by  Captain  Seymour, 
and  found  upon  the  finger  of  a  floating  corpse,  in  the  Hudson, 
which  we  all  imagined  to  be  your  mortal  remains  ;  but  lately 
we  have  discovered  that  the  corpse  was  that  of  a  young  lady 
of  the  name  of  Donaldson,  who  with  her  father  was  upset  from 
a  boat  in  the  Hudson  about  the  period  of  your  disappearance. 
Since  then  our  mother  has  restored  it  to  the  aunt  of  the  poor 
young  lady,  who,  by  the  way,  is  a  relative  of  Captain  Sey 
mour's.  All  this  I  will  explain  to  you  another  time.  Now, 
dear,  get  ready,  and  I  will  hire  a  carriage,  and  we  will  go  home 
together,  How  rejoiced  our  mother  will  be  when  we  arrive." 

"  Then  she  knows  not  of  my  return  ?"  said  Jane. 

"  No,"  replied  her  brother,  "  I  thought  it  advisable  to  keep 
her  in  ignorance  of  the  contents  of  the  letter  until  I  had  seen 
you.  Such  strange  events;  sucli  apparent  mysteries  havetran- 


426 

spired,  that,  until  I  saw  you  with  my  own  eyes,  I  refused  to 
credit  even  the  assertions  in  your  own  handwriting." 

The  carriage  was  brought  to  the  door  of  the  hotel,  and  the 
brother  and  sister  entered  and  were  driven  rapidly  to  Jersey 
City.  They  reached  the  cottage  and  the  carriage  stopped  op 
posite  the  gate. 

"  Stay  inside,  Jane,"  said  Tom.  "  I  will  go  in  and  break  the 
intelligence  of  your  return  to  our  mother,"  and  he  alighted  from 
the  carriage  and  opened  the  gate.  Mrs.  Miller  had  heard  the 
approach  of  the  carriage  wheels,  and  had  opened  the  door  of 
the  cottage  herself,  anticipating  her  son's  return. 

He  came  not  with  the  new' epaulettes  of  the  lieutenant's 
grade  upon  his  shoulders,  as  the  widow  had  so  simply  antici 
pated,  and  in  answer  to  her  question  whether  he  had  obtained 
promotion,  for  she  still  adhered  to  the  fancy  she  had  conceived, 
he  replied  : 

"  ]STo  matter;  I  told  you  that  the  letter  had  no  reference  to 
me.  Come  into  the  parlor,"  and  taking  her  by  the  arm  he  led 
her  into  the  room. 

"Mother,"  he  said,  "I  have  all  along  told  you  that  I  did 
not  believe  Jane  was  dead,  or  had  even  left  us  for  ever.  I  said 
she  would  some  day  return  to  gladden  us." 

"  Then  it  was  of  Jane  that  letter  told  ?"  almost  screamed  the 
widow. 

"  It  was." 

"  And  you  have  heard  news  of  her  ?  " 

"  I  have." 

"  Tell  me,  Tom,  my  son,  tell  me  at  once.  I  can  bear  it.  She 
is  well  ?" 

11  She  is  well,  and  I  have  seen  her." 

The  widow  gave  vent  to  a  piercing  shriek  and  fainted  in  the 
arms  of  her  son,  who  led  her  to  the  sofa  and  carefully  rested 
her  upon  it. 

Jane  had  heard  that  shriek,  and  unable  to  contain  herself 
any  longer,  she  had  alighted  from  the  carriage — opened  the 
gate  of  the  avenue  which  led  to  the  cottage — rushed  up  the 
gravel  walk — entered  the  cottage,  and  in  another  moment  was 
kneeling  by  the  prostrate  form  of  her  mother. 

In  the  course  of  a  few  moments  the  widow  began  to  show 
symptoms  of  recovery.  "  Was  it  a  dream?"  she  said,  passing 
her  hand  across  her  brow,  "  or  did  they  tell  me  Jane  had 
returned  ?" 

She  opened  her  eyes  and  beheld  both  her  children  bending 


THE  CABIN  BOY'S  STORY.  427 

over  her.  Her  emotions  again  overpowered  her — excess  of  joy 
is  more  prostrating  than  excess  of  grief — and  she  closed  her 
eyes  and  relapsed  into  unconsciousness;  but  she  lay  in  this  con 
dition  but  for  a  few  moments.  Again  she  opened  her  eyes, 
gazed  earnestly  upon  her  children,  as  if  to  assure  herself  that  it 
was  indeed  their  loved  faces  she  saw  bending  over  her;  her  lips 
moved  as  if  in  prayer,  and  then  she  exclaimed  aloud  as  tears 
rushed  to  her  relief  and  gushed  from  her  eyes  : 

"  Thank  God!  she  that  was  lost  is  found.  He  hath  restored 
my  child  to  me  again." 

She  clasped  the  returned  prodigal  in  her  embrace,  and  the 
long  separated  mother  and  daughter  mingled  their  tears  toge 
ther,  while  both  were  speechless  from  excess  of  emotion.  Tom 
stood  aside,  and  turned  away  his  head,  unable  to  witness  the 
happy  greeting. 

By  and  by,  the  re-united  family  became  more  composed,  and 
when  able  to  control  their  feelings,  the  long  story  of  Jane's 
mysterious  absence  was  told.  So  passed  the  remainder  of  that 
happy  day,  in  the  family  of  the  widow  Miller.  Jane  felt  a  deli 
cacy  in  meeting  with  those  she  had  known  before  she  left  home. 
She  felt  no  particular  friendship  for  them,  for  she  had,  in  con 
sequence  of  her  poverty,  been  treated  by  them  with  neglect  and 
contumely,  and  Mrs.  Miller,  whose  circumstances  were  now 
comparatively  easy,  resolved  to  remove  to  a  distant  place,  and 
at  Tom's  suggestion,  it  was  determined  that  the  family  should 
pay  a  visit  to  Camden,  where  his  old  shipmate  Frank  Martin 
and — his  sister,  Sarah,  lived. 

Leaving  them,  for  the  present,  to  prosecute  their  journey, 
let  us  revert  to  Mr.  Mordant  and  his  family,  whom  we  have  for 
some  time  lost  sight  of. 

From  the  hour  when  the  fortunes  of  Mr.  Mordant  reached  their 
culminating  point;  and  the  loss  of  the  Dolphin  and  the  Albatross; 
the  elopement  of  his  daughter  with  the  music  master ;  the  discovery 
of  the  fraud  with  regard  to  Mrs.  Miller's  estate;  the  reckless 
and  scandalous  behavior  of  his  son,  and  various  other  minor 
matters,  all  rushing,  crowding  upon  him  at  once,  with  the  ter 
rible  and  irresistible  power  of  an  avalanche,  this  gentleman, 
who  had  so  long  held  a  position  of  eminence  in  the  fashionable 
and  influential  circles  of  the  city,  felt  that  one  after  another 
the  stilts  which  had  supported  him  were  giving  way.  His  wealth 
had  been  great;  but  it  had,  in  consequence  of  unsuccessful 
speculations,  he  had  entered  into  unadvisedly  with  the  hope  of 
repairing  the  damages  that  his  fortune  had  sustained,  became 


428 

less  and  less,  and  he  foresaw  that  unless  he  retired  with  the 
remnant  of  his  fortune,  he  stood  a  good  chance  of  losing  it  all. 
He.  had  been  compelled  to  pay  ten  thousand  dollars  to  Mr. 
Dixon,  the  father  of  the  girl  whom  his  son  Charles  had  so  basely 
betrayed,  or  sought  to  betray,  though  he  had,  happily  for  the 
young  woman,  been  deceived.  He  had  again  been  compelled 
largely  to  fee  parties  at  Sierra  Leone,  who  were  conscious  of 
his  derelictions.  Mr.  Harvey  had  absconded  with  a  large 
amount  of  his  money  which  he  held  in  trust,  after  having 
pretty  well  feathered  his  nest  with  pickings  from  the  merchant's 
pockets,  in  the  way  of  legitimate  business,  and  the  last  that  was 
heard  of  him  he  was  in  Europe,  living  on  the  Continent  in  great 
style.  Charles  Mordant  had  contracted  new  debts,  not  in  the 
most  honorable  manner,  which  the  father,  to  preserve  his  own 
waning  reputation,  was  compelled  to  pay.  Miss  Dixon,  as  we 
will  still  call  her,  for  she  was  Charles  Mordant's  wife  only  in 
name,  had  succeeded  in  obtaining  a  divorce,  and,  to  hush  up 
the  prejudicial  reports  which  would  otherwise  have  got  abroad, 
the  merchant  was  compelled  to  pay  down  handsomely  to  law 
yers  of  low  reputation,  and  reporters,  editors,  and  others,  of 
still  lower.  To  save  his  daughter's  elopement  from  involving 
him  in  disgrace,  he  had  been  compelled  to  take  her  home,  and 
to  pay  the  music-master  liberally,  and  provide  him  with  a 
situation  to  insure  his  secresy;  for,  although  this  scoundrel  was 
obliged  to  keep  out  of  the  way,  in  order  to  evade  the  stern 
penalty  of  the  laws  he  had  outraged,  he  had  the  effrontery  to 
threaten  his  father-in-law  with  exposure,  aye,  and  would  have 
had  the  hardihood  to  expose  him,  too,  had  his  threats  been  un 
heeded.  All  these,  and  other  misfortunes,  had  compelled  Mr. 
Mordant  to  give  up  business  while  he  had  any  business  left  to 
give  up,  and  to  retire  to  a  small  estate  in  the  West,  which  he 
purchased  with  the  remnant  of  his  fortune,  where,  for  the  re 
mainder  of  his  life,  he  will  probably  languish  in  obscurity  and 
comparative  poverty. 

His  second  daughter,  educated  after  a  similar  fashion,  and 
possessed  with  the  same  romantic  sentiments  as  her  sister,  failed 
to  take  warning  by  her,  and  married  a  quack  doctor  and  itine 
rant  lecturer,  who  happened  to  visit  the  village  where  the  bro 
ken-down  merchant  had  located  himself;  and  with  him  she  went 
still  further  West,  and  has  not  since  been  heard  of.  Charles 
Mordant,  his  father  having  refused,  actually  because  he  was  no 
longer  able,  to  supply  his  extravagances,  at  last  persuaded  the 
old  gentleman  to  raise  him  sufficient  money  to  carry  him  to 


THE  CABIN  BOY'S  STORY.  429 

California,  where,  shortly  after  his  arrival  there,  he  perished  in 
a  drunken  brawl  in  San  Francisco.  Sarah  is  still  at  home ; 
and,  having  learned  experience  from  her  former  misfortunes, 
she  promises  yet  to  retrieve  herself,  if  she  can  only  escape  from 
the  meshes  in  which,  by  her  false  step,  she  has  entangled  her 
self.  She  devotes  herself  to  the  household  duties  of  the  farm ; 
and,  being  a  really  good-looking  girl,  a  wealthy  though  unedu 
cated  young  farmer  of  the  vicinity  has  fallen  over  head  and  ears 
in  love  with  her.  He  knows  nothing  of  her  former  history,  and 
was  somewhat  taken  aback  when,  upon  making  her  an  offer  of 
his  heart  and  hand,  he  received  a  respectful  refusal,  for  he  feels 
confident  she  loves  him — and  so  she  does,  in  truth;  and  should 
any  lucky  chance  put  an  end  to  the  career  of  her  rascally  and 
dissipated  husband,  she  will,  no  doubt,  eventually  accept  the 
hand  of  the  honest  farmer. 

As  to  Mrs.  Mordant,  she  sits  day  after  day,  the  whole  live 
long  day,  in  a  rocking-chair,  brooding  upon  the  misfortunes 
tha't  have  befallen  her  family,  and  laying  all  the  blame  upon 
her  husband,  who,  poor  man,  leads  a  wretched  life,  troubled 
as  he  is  with  the  reproaches  of  his  wife,  as  well  as  with  the 
small,  still,  yet  constantly  reproving  voice  of  his  own  conscience. 
He  thought  he  was  making  a  great  figure  in  the  world,  and  so 
he  was ;  but  when  his  affairs  begun  to  assume  a  downward  ten 
dency,  and  his  former  friends  found  that  he  was  no  longer  pos 
sessed  of  the  wealth  he  once  had,  it  was  astonishing  how  soon 
he  was  forgotten.  So  far  from  being  the  pillar  of  society  he 
vainly  imagined  himself  to  be,  he  found  that  he  was  not  missed 
from  the  structure  when  he  was  compelled  to  withdraw  himself, 
and  that  his  very  existence  was  forgotten.  He  is  just  begin 
ning  to  see  the  folly,  wickedness,  and  vanity  of  his  past  career — 
beginning  to  see  it  at  a  late  period  of  life,  certainly ;  still,  let  us 
hope  he  will  benefit  by  the  retrospect.  Here  we  will  leave  him 
to  that  painful  retrospect,  and,  we  trust,  to  repentance. 

Mrs.  Miller  and  her  son  and  daughter  visited  Camden,  as 
we  have  stated  was  their  intention.  The  place  so  pleased  the 
widow,  who  found  an  agreeable  companion  in  Mrs.  Martin,  that 
she  determined  to  sell  her  property  in  New  Jersey,  and  pur 
chase  a  farm  near  that  occupied  by  the  Martins.  She  was 
much  influenced  in  this  matter  by  her  son,  who  has  fallen  deeply 
in  love  with  Sarah  Martin.  Sarah,  too,  reciprocates  the  affec 
tions  of  the  young  sailor,  and,  on  his  return  from  his  present 
cruise  to  the  Japanese  Islands,  she  is  to  become  his  wife. 

Wu   have  mentioned  that  a  divorce  from  Charles  Mordant 


430  '   THE  CABIN  BOY'S  STORY. 

had  been  obtained  by  Miss  Dixon,  and  shortly  afterwards,  at 
the  request  of  Mrs.  Martin,  the  request  being  urged  at  'the  in 
stance  of  her  son,  she  paid  a  visit  to  Camden,  and  she  and 
Frank  Martin,  who  is  now  a  steady  farmer,  were  very  soon 
engaged  to  each  other.  Frank  said  he  needed  a  wife  to  manage 
the  domestic  duties  of  the  farm,  and,  as  he  would  brook  no 
delay,  they  were  married  within  three  months  after  the  visit  was 
made,  and  on  the  same  day  William  Martin  and  Jessica  Deane 
were  united. 

William  is  settled  near  Augusta,  where  he  has  gone  into 
business  on  his  own  account,  and  promises  one  day  to  become 
a  thriving  lawyer. 

Mrs.  Donaldson,  who  we  hinted  had  learned  that  the  drowned 
female,  found  floating  in  the  Hudson,  and  supposed  to  be  Jane 
Miller,  was  her  unfortunate  niece,  and  who  was  satisfied  that 
her  brother  had  likewise  perished,  is  still  living  at  Camden,  and 
has  made  a  will,  bequeathing  all  her  large  property  to  William, 
Frank,  and  Sarah  Martin,  her  grand  nephews  and  niece — thus, 
when  she  dies,  they  will  be  amongst  the  wealthiest  families  in 
the  State  of  Maine. 

As  to  Jane  Miller,  she  has  declared  her  intention  never  to 
marry.  It  is  evident  to  her  friends  that  she  was  really  strongly 
attached  to  Seymour:  and  in  spite  of  all  that  has  passed— in 
spite  of  her  knowledge  of  his  character,  and  the  hopelessness 
of  her  love,  she  cannot  efface  his  image  from  her  memory.  The 
scene  she  witnessed  on  Zuleika's  Isle  had  a  marked  influence 
upon  her.  She  is  inclined  to  melancholy,  and  is  fond  of  walking 
alone  on  the  sea-shore  and  brooding  over  past  recollections.  It 
has,  however,  been  noticed  that  she  has  of  late  been  joined  in 
her  walks,  as  it  were,  accidentally,  by  a  young  physician,  who 
has  lately  commenced  practice  in  the  vicinity,  and  who  has  a 
strange  fancy  for  gathering  sea  shells,  just  at  the  hour  when 
Jane  wanders  on  the  beach.  He  has  been  instructing  her  in 
the  science  of  conchology,  and  there  are  shrewd  whispers 
abroad  that  she  is  an  apt  pupil,  and  is  also  taking  lessons 
from  the  same  gentleman  in  another  science.  We  should  not 
at  all  wonder  if  before  long  Jane  Miller  became  Mrs.  Doctor 

somebody.     We  won't  say  whom. 

Captain  De  Sylva  made  a  successful  market  at  Odessa  and 
a  quick  passage  home  to  Oporto;  and  on  his  arrival  home  he 
introduced  Marie  to  his  parents.  We  are  not  in  the  secret 
with  regard  to  what  happened  on  the  passage  home,  or  as  to 
where  the  courtship  commenced  ;  but  a  fortnight  after  the  ar- 


THE  CABIN  BOY'S  STORY.  431 

rival  of  the  Petrel  at  Oporto,  Dom  Sebastian  De  Sylva  and 
Mademoiselle  Marie  Wilson  were  made  man  and  wife  at  the 
Cathedral  of  Oporto. 

We.  learnt  the  news  through  a  letter  which  was  received  by 
her  sister  Louise,  in  which  she  mentions  how  happy  she  is,  and 
how  dearly  she  loves  her  generous  husband,  and  she  also  in 
vites  her  sister  to  visit  her  in  Portugal.  Her  husband  has  left 
the  sea,  and  she  says  he  has  promised  to  make  the  tour  of  Eu 
rope  with  her.  She  wishes  her  sister  to  accompany  her,  and 
Louise  is  inclined  to  do  so  ;  but  at  present  she  is  unable,  as 
her  guardian  keeps  her  very  close.  However,  his  health  is 
failing,  and  should  he  die,  she  will  be  her  own  mistress,  and  the 
possessor  of  great  wealth.  Then  she  has  resolved  to  visit  her 
sister,  and  has  written  her  to  that  effect.  Captain  De  Sylva 
blesses  the  hour  when  he  fell  in  with  his  Marie  on  the  door 
step  of  the  hotel,  on  that  stormy  night,  at  New  _  Orleans. 
They  have  given  Julia,  Zuleika's  old  nurse,  a  home  with  them. 

For  a  long  time  after  the  return  of  her  daughter,  it  remained 
a  mystery  to  Mrs.  Miller  as  to  who  was  the  author  of  the 
anonymous  letters  she  received  at  different  times  after  her 
daughter's  disappearance  ;  but  the  mystery  was  at  length  un 
ravelled.  A  letter,  which,  shortly  after  the  family  had  quitted 
New  Jersey,  had  been  sent  to  the  cottage  in  which  they  had 
lived,  was  forwarded  to  their  new  abode  in  Camden.  It  was 
in  the  well  remembered  handwriting  of  the  anonymous  scribe, 
who  requested  an  interview  with  Mrs.  Miller  or  one  of  her 
family .  She  stated  that  she  was  dying  of  consumption  in  the 
New  York  Hospital,  and  no  time  was  to  be  lost  if  they  wished 
to  hear  further  from  her. 

Young  Miller  was  in  the  city  of  New  York  on  his  way  to 
join  the  ship,  in  Commodore  Perry's  squadron,  to  which  he  had 
been  appointed,  and  he  paid  a  visit  to  the  hospital  and  asked 
for  the  inmate,  who  had  in  her  last  letter  signed  herself  "Mary 
Edwards." 

He  found  her  in  the  ward  appropriated  to  persons  suffering 
from  consumptive  complaints. 

"You  are  the  son  of  Mrs.  Miller,  and  brother  of  Jane 
Miller,  who  disappeared  from  home  some  time  since?"  said  she. 

"  I  am,"  replied  Tom. 

"  I  am  dying,"  said  the  poor  girl,  "  but  before  I  die  I  wish 
to  clear  up  that  which  otherwise  may  remain  a  painful  mystery. 
I  am  the  daughter  of  a  farmer  who  resided  in  New  Jersey — 
where,  I  will  not  say — it  does  not  matter.  I  met  with  Captain 


432  THE    CABIN    BOY'S    STORY. 

Seymour  in  New  York,  and,  attracted  by  his  many  fascinations, 
I  fell  in  love  with  him,  madly,  hopelessly.  I  knew  this  from 
the  first — that  is  to  say,  from  the  first  time  I  was  so  weak 
as  to  let  him  perceive  that  I  loved  him  ;  still  I  could  not  leave 
him  ;  I  haunted  his  footsteps  ;  I  followed  him  and  watched 
him  when  he  knew  not  that  I  was  near  ;  I  witnessed  his  atten 
tions  to  your  sister,  and  the  thought  that  .he  loved  her  mad-, 
dened  me;  I  saw  them  together  the  day  previous  to  her  depar 
ture  from  home;  I  was  concealed  in  the  grove  where  they 
were  walking,  and  I  heard  all  that  passed  ;  I  knew  then  that 
Seymour  did  not  love  Jane  Miller;  still  he  did  not  love  me,  and 
I  hated  her  to  whom  he  showed  so  much  more  attention:  I 
watched  her  closely,  and  knew  of  her  disguise  ;  I  could  have 
betrayed  her,  but  I  did  not,  because  I  hoped  Seymour  would,  and 
so  I  should  be  revenged.  I  was  driven  to  insanity,  and  in  that 
state  I  penned  those  letters,  scarcely  knowing  what  I  wrote,  or 
what  was  my  object,  unless  it  was  to  make  others  as  wretched  as 
myself.  I  wished  to  render  her  miserable,  and  at  the  same 
time  to  detach  her  from  Seymour.  Since  that  time  I  have 
lived  a  life  of  poverty,  earning  my  bread  as  a  seamstress,  until 
the  disease,  which  months  ago  attacked  me,  rendered  me  pow 
erless  to  earn  it  any  longer.  Then  I  was  admitted  here.  I 
shall  not  live  through  another  day.  I  feel  that  my  last  hour 
is  drawing  near,  and  I  have  long  felt  that  I  could  not  die  hap 
pily,  unless  I  had  unburtheried  my  mind  of  this  deceit." 

The  poor  girl  fell  back  upon  her  pillow  exhausted,  and  deeply 
moved  with  the  distress  he  had  witnessed,  the  young  midship 
man  left  the  hospital.  He  departed  for  Norfolk  that  evening, 
but  before  he  sailed  he  wrote  a  letter  to  his  mother  and  to 
Jane,  informing  them  of  all  the  unhappy  girl  had  told  him. 

We  have  only  now  to  relate  what  we  know  of  the  fate  of 
Seymour  and  one  or  two  others  who  have  figured  in  our  narra 
tive,  and  then  our  task  of  many  weeks  duration  will  be  at  an 
end.  But  we  shall  make  this  relation  the  subject  of  another 
and  a  concluding  chapter. 


THE  CABIN  BOY'S  STORY.  433 

CHAPTER    XL. 

THE   CONCLUSION. 

" But  little  more  remains  to  tell, 

I've  suffered — yet  deserved  it  well — 
Scarce  thirty  summers  yet  have  sped 
Their  brief  existence  o'er  my  head. 
Yet,  see:  this  premature  decay, 
These  sable  hairs,  thick  strewn  with  gray; 
This  furrowed  brow  and  visage  pale, 
Betray,  alas  !  a  mournful  tale, 
Of  passions  under  no  control, 

All  reckless  in  their  fiery  course, 
Breeding  that  cancer  in  the  soul — 

The  torturing  demon  of  remorse." 

[  Unpublished  Poem. 

SEYMOUR  arrived  with  the  caravan  at  Moscow  ;  but  neither 
the  diversity  of  scenery  nor  the  change  of  habit  were  able  to 
banish  from  his  memory  the  recollection  of  his  past  career, 
the  tragical  end  of  his  beloved  Zuleika,  nor  the  image  of  his 
child  whom  he  had  nursed  in  his  arms  in  the  evening,  full  of 
life  and  health  and  infantile  glee,  and  whom  in  the  morning  he 
had  seen  a  corpse.  These  thoughts  haunted  him  in  his  waking 
moments  and  in  his  dreams  ;  night  brought  no  rest,  day  no 
respite  to  his  mental  sufferings. 

From  Moscow  he  journeyed  to  St.  Petersburg,  and  thence 
travelled  into  Austria,  whence  he  still  pursued  his  way  south 
ward  into  Italy.  He  had,  it  would  seem,  a  purpose  in  view 
from  the  moment  he  had  quitted  Russia;  for  his  journeyings 
thenceforward  were  not  marked  by  the  vascillation  which  had 
characterised  them  through  that  country.  His  course  from  St. 
Petersburg  until  he  arrived  at  Parma,  in  Italy,  was  as  direct 
and  as  rapid  as  he  could  render  it. 

At  Parma  he  hired  obscure  lodgings,  mingling  neither  with 
the  inhabitants  nor  with  the  numerous  foreigners  who  visited 
that  city,  though  it  was  soon  spread  abroad  that  he  was 
possessed  of  wealth ;  for  the  cormorants,  who  seek  to  prey  upon 
the  unwary  in  those  cities,  which  are  much  visited  by  strangers, 
seem  to  have  an  intuitive  faculty  of  discovering  the  possessors 
of  wealth,  however  they  may  seek  to  hide  it,  as  easily  as  the 
vulture  scents  the  blood  of  its  victims. 

Seymour,  however,  spurned  all  overtures  that  were  made  to 
him  to  induce  him  to  mingle  in  society,  and  soon  finding  that  it 

19 


434 

was  useless  to  waste  time  upon  him,  Jie  was  left  to  himself,  and 

forgotten. 

****** 

About  six  months  after  his  marriage  to  Miss  Dixon,  Frank 
Martin  resolved  to  visit  the  continent  of  Europe  with  his  bride, 
Mrs.  Donaldson,  who  was  very  partial  to  him,  amply  providing 
him  with  funds  for  that  purpose  He  landed  in  England,  thence 
travelled  through  Prance  into  Italy,  stopping  a  few  days  at  any 
city  or  locality  famed  for  its  historical  associations,  or  which 
particularly  pleased  his  fancy.  However,  as  his  tour  was  to  be 
a  brief  one,  he  hurried  to  Italy,  which  country  his  wife  wished 
particularly  to  visit. 

They  had  travelled  from  Milan  to  Parma,  where  Mrs.  Mar- 
i  in,  feeling  fatigued  with  her  journey,  expressed  a  wish  to  re 
main  a  few  hours,  although  it  had  been  their  intention  to  hasten 
on  to  Florence  as  quickly  as  possible. 

Leaving  his  wife  resting  upon  a  couch  in  the  hotel  at  which 
they  had  put  up,  Frank  strolled  through  the  city  for  the  pur 
pose  of  amusing  himself  and  passing  away  the  time. 

He  found,  however,  little  to  attract  his  attention,  except  the 
churches,  and  of  these  he  had  seen  so  many,  that  he  began  to 
weary  .of  them. 

"  Have  you  nothing  worthy  of  the  inspection  of  a  traveller 
in  this  place  ?"  he  asked  of  a  barefooted  friar,  who  had  con 
ducted  him  over  a  cathedral. 

"  Signer,  yes,"  replied  the  friar.  "  We  have  a  monastery  a 
mile  or  two  beyond  the  gates  of  the  city,  worthy  of  your  ex 
cellency's  notice " 

"  Bah!  a  monastery!"  exclaimed  Frank  in  a  tone  of  disgust. 
I  am  sick  of  eternally  visiting  monasteries  and  churches  and 
convents." 

"  But  this  is  worth  a  visit,  signer,"  returned  the  friar.  "  The 
grounds  are  entensive  and  admirably  laid  out.  Your  excellency 
will  be  delighted." 

"  Well,  then,  call  a  carriage,  and  let  us  proceed  thither,"  said 
Frank,  yawning  with  ennui.  "  The  drive  will  serve  to  pass 
away  an  hour  at  any  rate." 

In  the  greedy  hope  of  extracting  an  additional  fee  from  one 
who  had  already  feed  him  so  handsomely,  the  friar  was  not  '  3ng 
in  procuring  a  rickety  conveyance,  in  which  he  and  the  l-'ilord 
Americano,  as  he  termed  his  companion,  proceeded  to  the  mon 
astery  in  question. 

"  Can  we  alight  and  walk  over  the  grounds  ?"  said   K  cink, 


THE  CABIN  BOY'S  STORY.  435 

growing  somewhat  interested  as  they  drew  near  the  spot. 
"The  grounds  of  this  place  do  seem  more  interesting  than 
those  of  most  monasteries  I  have  seen." 

"  Certainly,  Excellency;  by  paying  a  fee  to  the  porter  at  the 
gate,  you  can  enter  with  me,  and  wander  freely  over  the 
grounds.  Another  fee  to  the  porter  inside  will  procure  you 
ready  admission  into  the  monastery." 

"  A  fee,  of  course!"  said  Frank.  "Nothing  ean  be  done 
here  without  a  fee.  Go  ahead,  then." 

The  entrance  fee  was  paid.  Frank  and  his  guide  alighted 
from  the  crazy  vehicle  which  had  brought  them  from  the  city, 
and  together  they  walked  over  the  grounds — the  friar,  though 
a  sycophant,  and  little  better  than  a  mendicant,  being  really  a 
very  shrewd,  intelligent  guide,  and  being  especially  well  posted 
upon  all  matters  connected  with  the  churches  and  religious 
houses. 

"  I  should  like  to  visit  the  interior  of  the  monastery,"  said 
Frank,  after  they  had  promenaded  the  grounds  until  he  began 
to  feel  weary  ;  and  on  the  payment  of  a  second  fee  they  were, 
as  the  friar  had  said  they  would  be,  readily  admitted. 

It  was  a  stupendous,  gloomy  pile,  and  Frank  soon  grew 
tired  of  wandering  about  amongst  the  dark  corridors,  paved 
with  stone,  and  having  cells  on  either  side  let  into  the  walls. 

There  was  no  variety — nothing  to  attract  the  attention, 
save  that  now  and  then  tall,  gaunt  figures,  wrapped  in  cowls 
and  robed  in  gowns  of  coarse  serge,  would  flit  noiselessly  by 
them,  like  ghosts;  and  Frank  was  on  the  point  of  leaving  the 
place  when,  just  as  one  of  these  ghostly  objects  was  passing  by 
him,  in  the  centre  of  a  long,  dark  passage,  the  lantern  that  he 
held  in  his  hand  disclosed  such  portions  of  his  face  as  were  not 
covered  with  the  cowl. 

Frank  glanced  at  the  face,  and  then,  starting  back  suddenly, 
with  difficulty  suppressed  an  exclamation  of  surprise.  It  ap 
peared  that  he,  too,  was  noticed  by  the  ghostly  father,  for  the 
latter  also  started,  and,  crossing  himself  devoutly,  muttered  a 
prayer,  and  passed  hastily  into  a  cell,  securing  the  door  behind 
him. 

"  What  is  the  name  of  that  monk?"  asked  Frank  of  his  con 
ductor.  "  You  appear  to  know  every  one  here.  Who  is  that 
man  ?  I  have  seen  his  face,  I  think,  before." 

"  May  be,  your  excellency,"  replied  the  friar,  who  never 
ventured  to  contradict  his  patrons.  "  May  be;  that  holy  man 


436  THE  CABIN  BOY'S  STORY. 

is  called  Father  Georgius  ;  he  has  been  here  but  a  short 
time." 

"  What  countryman  is  he  ?     He  is  not  an  Italian." 

"  Signor,  I  do  not  know,"  replied  the  friar  ;  "  I  only  know 
that  he  came  to  Parma  some  months  since;  that  he  lived  in  re 
tirement,  and  that  he  is  rich,  and  more  than  that,  he  has  re 
solved  to  leave  his  wealth  to  the  monastery,  when  he  dies ;  that 
will  not  be  long,  for  he  is  killing  himself  with  mortifications  and 
scourgings.  Ah!  Signor,  truly  he  is  a  holy  man  !" 

That  was  all  that  Frank  could  glean  from  the  friar.  He  lin 
gered  about  for  sometime  in  hopes  that  the  monk  would  again 
come  forth  from  the  cell,  but  he  waited  in  vain,  and  at  length 
getting  weary  and  anxious  to  proceed  on  his  journey,  he  re 
turned  to  the  hotel  at  Parma,  where  he  had  left  his  wife. 

He  told  her  that  he  had  met  with  a  priest  in  the  monastery  of 
Saint  Giachimo,  who,  he  could  almost  be  certain,  was  Sey 
mour,  so  strongly  did  he  resemble  him.  "  But  yet  it  could  not 
be,"  he  added;  "  Seymour  would  never  become  a  friar,  besides 
even  if  he  did,  he  would,  not  already  be  honored  with  the  ap 
pellation  of  '  Father,'  and  according  to  the  testimony  of  the 
friar  who  conducted  me  around  the  place,  be  treated  with  so 
much  respect  and  deference  as  this  man  is." 

"  It  is  not  likely  that  it  is  Seymour,"  replied  Mrs.  Martin  ; 
"  but  as  to  the  deference  with  which  he  is  treated,  and  the  rank 
he  holds  in  the  monastery,  the  wealth — and  Seymour  has  wealth 
— that  can  purchase  indulgences,  and  immunities  from  sin — is 
able  to  accomplish  anything  else  in  this  country." 

Nothing  further  was  said  at  the  time.  Frank  and  his  wife 
visited  Florence,  and  Rome,  and  Naples,  and  three  months  af 
terwards  again  found  themselves  at  Parma. 

"  Do  you  know  Jeannette,"  said  Frank,  after  they  had  fin 
ished  dinner  at  the  hotel,  "  I  have  a  great  fancy  to  visit  that 
monastery  again.  I  cannot  get  the  idea  out  of  my  head  that 
that  anchorite  I  met  when  we  were  here  last  was  really  Seymour. 
I  should  like  to  learn  something  more  of  him,  and  to  see  him 
again  if  possible.  "Ha!"  he  suddenly  exclaimed,  "as  good 
luck  will  have  it,  there  goes  the  very  mendicant  friar  who  con 
ducted  me  over  the  monastery  on  my  last  visit.  Stay  here,  my 
dear,  until  my  return.  I  will  not  be  long  away;  but  I  really 
must  visit  the  monastery  once  more,"  and,  darting  into  the 
street,  he  seized  the  astonished  friar  by  the  the  arm,  and,  slip 
ping  a  piece  of  money  into  his  hand,  desired  him  to  procure  a 


THE  CABIN  BOY'S  STORY.  437 

conveyance  and  again  conduct  him  to  the  monastery  of  Saint 
Giachimo.  Nothing  loath,  the  friar  consented  ;  the  carriage 
was  produced,  and  in  the  course  of  half  an  hour,  Frank  again 
stood  within  the  walls  of  the  venerable  edifice. 

"  Is  Father  Georgius  still  an  inmate  of  this  monastery  ?" 
he  asked  of  his  guide  ;  "  if  so  I  should  much  like  to  see  him, 
to  speak  with  him  if  possible." 

The  friar  crossed  himself  reverentially. 

"Father  Georgius  has  gone  to  heaven,"  he  said;  "daily 
mortifications  of  the  flesh,  continual  scourgings,  and  fasts,  and 
nightly  vigils,  wore  out  the  body  of  the  holy  father,  who  has 
left  his  wealth  to  the  monastery  and  has  been  canonized  under 
the  name  of  St.  Georgius  ;"  and  as  he  pronounced  the  name, 
the  friar  made  repeated  crosses  and  genufluxions,  and  added — 
"he  died  in  the  odor  of  sanctity." 

"  But,"  he  continued,  "  on  the  payment  of  a  fee,  you  can  see 
the  relics  the  holy  man  has  left  behind  him.  They  are  daily 
visited  by  the  faithful.  One  is  a  portrait  of  the  Holy  Virgin, 
set  in  pure  gold,  so  beautiful  that  it  is  not  believed  to  have 
been  the  work  of  mortal  hands;  the  other  is  a  faded  rose,  which 
was  found  attached  to  the  portrait,  and  both  were  lying  be 
neath  his  robe,  close  to  his  heart.  The  Abbot  of  the  monastery 
asserts  that  the  rose  possesses  miraculous  virtues,  for  it  still 
preserves  its  fragrance,  though  enclosed  in  a  glass  case,  which 
is  never  raised." 

"  I  should,  indeed,  like  to  see  these  relics,"  said  Frank;  and, 
on  payment  of  the  fee,  he  was  allowed  to  visit  the  place  where 
they  were  kept. 

He  doubted  no  longer  ;  the  portrait  of  Zuleika  was  before 
him — that  portrait  which  more  than  once,  when  a  cabin  boy  on 
board  the  Albatross,  he  had  seen  in  the  possession  of  Seymour. 
Beneath  it  was  inscribed — "  I  will  remember!" 

"  What  is  the  meaning  of  that  inscription  ?"  asked  Frank  of 
-the  friar. 

"  These  were  the  last  words  the  holy  man  uttered,"  was  the 
reply. 

Frank  gazed  long  and  earnestly  upon  the  locket  ;  the  por 
trait  was  beautiful  indeed,  and  the  original  was  pure  as  she  was 
lovely  ;  but  little  did  Seymour,  little  did  Zuleika  think,  that 
that  picture  would  ever  be  shown  as  the  relic  of  a  departed 
saint,  and  as  a  portrait  of  the  Holy  Virgin,  and,  as  such,  be  vis 
ited  and  worshipped  by  thousands  of  devotees;  and  the  rose — 
it  was  a  faded  white  rose — and  strange  to  say,  a  strong  per- 


438 

fume  was  perceptible,  even  through  the  glass  case  in  which.it  was 
enclosed  ! — but  Frank  righi'y  suspected  that  artificial  means 
were  employed  to  create  its  seeming  fragrance. 

Frank  left  the  monastery  strangely  impressed  with  what  he 
had  seen,  and  he  obtained  permission  for  Jeannette  also  to  see 
the  relics  before  he  quitted  Parma. 

They  returned  home — and  the  strange  story  furnished  mat 
ter  for  much  interesting  conversation,  and  led  to  many  remin 
iscences  of  former  days. 

"And  the  rose,"  said  Frank  one  day,  when  he  was  speaking 
to  Jane  Miller  on  the  subject,  "  I  wonder  what  could  have 
made  Seymour  cherish  a  faded  white  rose  so  fondly  ;  or,  per 
haps,  he  did  not  carry  it  about  his  person  ;  it  may  have  been 
placed  in  the  cell  as  a  relic,  by  the  orders  of  the  Abbot." 

"  Seymour  plucked  a  white  rose  from  poor  Zuleika's  grave," 
answered  Jane,  "  and  placed  it  in  his  bosom.  I  have  no  doubt 

he  wore  that  rose  next  his  heart  until  he  died." 

****** 

Reader,  we  have  but  a  few  words  more  to  add. 

Shortly  after  Frank's  return  from  abroad,  a  man,  apparently 
a  seaman,  to  judge  from  his  attire,  was  picked  up  in  a  state  of 
destitution  on  Broadway,  and  carried  to  the  Bellevue  hospital. 
Frank  was  passing  by  at  the  time,  happening  to  be  then  on  a 
visit  to  New  York;  and  although  vice  and  intemperance,  and 
disease  and  starvation  had  almost  effaced  the  human  lineaments 
from  the  man's  features,  there  was  something  in  the  appear 
ance  of  the  poor  wretch  that  led  Frank  to  fancy  he  had  seen 
him  before.  He  followed  him  to  the  hospital,  and  then  he  felt 
sure  he  was  correct  in  his  surmise;  the  man  was  Tolcroft,  the 
ci  devant  mate  of  the  Albatross.  He  partially  revived,  and 
lived  for  some  hours,  and  Frank  talked  with  him  in  his  more 
lucid  moments,  and  obtained  much  information  respecting  Sey 
mour's  career  from  him.  But  he  died  a  raving  maniac,  and  his 
spirit  took  its  departure  from  the  body  while  a  fearful  blasphe 
my  was  still  lingering  upon  his  lips. 

With  a  saddened  heart  the  young  man  left  the  hospital.  *  * 

Reader,  the  cabin  boy  has  told  his  story. 


THE    END. 


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